


Slytherin Harry and The Sorcerers Stone

by Authormitchel



Series: SlytherinHarry [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry Potter Rewrite, M/M, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin!Harry, Sorcerers Stone Rewrite, first year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authormitchel/pseuds/Authormitchel
Summary: A rewrite of Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone, featuring a Slytherin Harry Potter, a sassy Millicent Bulstrode, a brave Neville Longbottom, classic Hermione Granger, Blaise "Yes, my left elbow is cuter than your whole face" Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and all the original characters.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a rewrite of the entire series, I am posting one and part of two so that you can see the differences because the first one is nearly a straight adaptation. I am clearly not J.K. Rowling, but I've been wanting to read a story like this for ages, so I decided to write it. Sorcerer's Stone will be posted in one go, C.O.S is also done, but will be posted weekly, so that I can finish P.O.A. This is ao3, so there will be slash in the future. Thank you for reading and commenting as always I hope you like this. And Jo, if you're reading this....tweet me I have an idea.

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. The next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited. 

“Hmmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very Difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes-, and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting….So where shall I put you?” 

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin. 

“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that….. Hmm, just wait Harry Potter Slytherin will serve you good. You’ll see… SLYTHERIN!”

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Slytherin table. The pounding in his chest assured that he barely noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. He eyed the red headed boy, Ron, he had met on the train looking at him helplessly, but the people at the Slytherin table were mostly all smiling. Harry sat at the end of the table next to a large looking boy, he smirked at him, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just been plunged into a bucket of ice-cold water. 

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end furthest from him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him a shaky smile. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he’d gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. 

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a black boy even taller than Ron, joined Hermione at the Gryffindor table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table. He couldn’t be the last Slytherin. Ron also wanted to be in Gryffindor, maybe the hat would ignore him too, but a second later the hat had shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” 

Harry clapped along with the rest though when “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin he had to move over to make space for him at the table. In a moment, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. 

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin juice seemed ages ago. 

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms wide open, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” 

“Thank you.”

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not. 

“Mad as a Hatter,” Harry heard Draco Malfoy mutter. His cronies laughed along with him. He hadn’t liked the boy when he had turned down his hand earlier, and he didn’t like him now. 

“Mad? Malfoy?” Marcus Flint, the prefect sitting beside Harry said. “He’s your headmaster, and he deserves your respect.” It was gruff and it was final. Draco turned away, latching onto another conversation closer to his   
part of the table.

“Potatoes, Potter? You need to eat something. You’re so skinny, you look like a Fwooper feather could knock you over.” 

Harry’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table, roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, pudding, and more. 

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he’d never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. 

Harry started at a noise from the Gryffindor table. One of the ghosts was removing, no, almost removing his head before replacing it to the horror of some of the students and the entertainment for some of the old ones. 

His house had a ghost too. Looking down the table, he spotted a horrible ghost, with blank eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained in silver blood sitting beside Malfoy who Harry was pleased to see didn’t look to be happy about it either. 

“Who’s that?” Harry dared ask. 

“The Bloody Baron,” Flint answered, not bothering to look up from his plate. “He’s our house ghost,”

“Why is he covered in blood?” Harry asked, feeling braver as more time passed. 

“Killed someone didn’t he?” Blaise, the boy beside Harry answered. “Didn’t you know all us Slytherins are nothing more than rogues, scoundrels, traitors, and murderers?”

The boy looked at him thoughtfully, a twinkle in his eye like he was laughing at him though his expression stayed neutral. 

“Didn’t think we’d get you, though, Potter? Didn’t peg you as the type.” 

Before Harry could ask what type was that, the remains of their food faded from their plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the deserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of,   
apple pies, and rice pudding…. 

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. 

“Well, we all know who’s pure here, and I doubt we got any of the other sort, but what about the rest of you?” Malfoy questioned, eyeing a few people in particular. 

Some of the others laughed, some didn’t. 

Harry who was starting to feel warm and sleepy after his meal was now suddenly fully alert. Harry looked up at the high table where Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. 

It happened very suddenly. The hook nosed teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Harry’s eyes--- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry’s forehead. 

“Ouch!” Harry clapped a hand to his head. 

“What is it?” a girl, Millicent, Harry remembered, asked, sounding quite put out about it. 

“N..nothing.” 

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look---- a feeling that he didn’t like Harry at all. 

Daring, Harry asked Flint, “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” 

Flint looked surprised, but he quickly covered it. Harry thought it must be a Slytherin thing. “Professor Snape, potions professor and our head of house.”

Nodding, Harry turned back. He watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at him again. 

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent. 

“Ahem--- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.”

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore gave a warning look over the hall. 

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” 

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.”

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” 

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did, and the only one at the Slytherin table. 

“He’s not serious?” he muttered to the haughty looking boy beside him. 

“It’s just a joke, Potter,” said the black, haughty boy beside him. “I heard Dumbledore’s always joking like that. He just doesn’t want anyone to interrupt his poker games with Sprout and Flitwick.” 

Harry heard the sarcasm this time. Wondering if he would ever be able to get anything but a riddle out of this new boy.

Harry shook his head. “Sure Zabini, then why don’t you join then?”

Zabini only laughed. 

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed. 

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long silver ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. 

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “And off we go.” 

Harry sang along dutifully to the words of “Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts” admiring Flint’s quiet but pleasant falsetto until the end of the song. 

“Ah music,” Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” 

The Slytherin first years followed Flint through the chattering crowd, out of the Great Hall, and down a marble staircase. Harry’s legs were like led again, with each step his dread intensified. Blaise walked beside him, more like pranced. He had an elegance about him that he shared with many of the other first years, but that Harry seemed to lack. It made him stand out more than he already did. 

Flint led them down a set of stairs, then another, then another. The air getting increasingly colder, the further they went into the underground of the castle. 

“You’ll be my roomie, Potter. You don’t snore do you?” asked Blaise. 

“How do you know?” inquired Harry. 

Blaise smiled. 

“Salazar knows there is no way the great Harry Potter would be sorted into Slytherin and not be my new roommate.” 

Yawning, Harry ignored the elegant looking black boy, intent on trying to pay attention to where they were going. 

When Flint held up his hand, Harry and the others were facing a stone wall. The corridor around them was empty with the exception of the expectant and tired faces of the rest of Harry’s new classmates.

Harry spotted Malfoy standing at the front of the group looking up at Flint. 

Ignoring him, Flint turned toward the stone wall, and muttered a few words. 

“Nulli Secundus” 

The wall behind him slowly started to creak open. Harry stepped back with the rest of the first years. Apparently no one was expecting exactly this. The Slytherin common room was big and well lit, candles and torches were bright   
lending light along with the roaring fire emanating out of the ornate fireplace. In front of the fireplace in a lowered alcove were multiple chairs and couches were some students were already congregating. Doors lined all the other walls leading here and there, except for the far wall and part of the ceiling. 

They were under the lake. 

Harry knew it was cold for a reason. The whole portion of the wall farthest from the entrance and part of the ceiling was nothing but fortified glass. The lake filled with algae and water plants bloomed, but Harry was sure if he looked down that he still wouldn’t be able to see the bottom. The room was magnificent and ornate, every surface looked like something out of one of aunt Petunia’s regency romance novels. 

Flint moved to the front of the group, and started to read out room assignments. 

“Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott…..”

Not me. Not me. Harry thought. He should have known better. 

“, and Potter,” Flint announced. “You lot are in the dormitory to the left.”

They found their beds, six four-posters hung with deep Slytherin green velvet curtains lined the room. On the side of the room Harry head a swoosh, the sound drawing his attention. A huge carved out space took a large portion out of the side of the far wall. It was like the window in the main room, the lake was right through the glass. 

“We really are deep,” Harry muttered, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind. As everyone claimed their bed, Malfoy closest to the bathroom by the entrance, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. Harry and Zabini wound up at the two beds toward the back with Nott one up from them. Harry’s bed was directly under the faint green light of the lake. 

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because as soon as his head hit the pillow he was closing his eyes. He was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban, which kept talking to him, announcing to the Great Hall that he was in Slytherin instead of the Sorting Hat. 

“Anywhere but Slytherin. Anywhere but Slytherin,” chanted Harry, but the turban shouted SLYTHERIN! Once again. He tried to pull it off, but it only tightened on his head painfully—and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it—then Malfoy turned into the hook nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold—there was a burst of green light, and Harry woke, sweating and shaking. 

“Breaking already, Potter?” Malfoy asked from his bed. Harry stayed silent. Turning away from Malfoy, rolling over, and instantly falling asleep once again, and when he woke the next day, he didn’t remember the dream at all.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes Begin

“There, look.”

“Where?”

“Next to that statue.”

“Wearing the glasses?”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scar?”

“A Slytherin?”

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn’t, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. 

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open until you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, or like his common room wouldn’t open unless you said a specific phrase. 

The ghosts, Harry decided, were a nuisance. When one had nearly managed to drop a bin full of trash on his head, he decided to steer clear of them. Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Mr. Filch. Harry had managed to get on the wrong side of him his very first morning. 

Malfoy, Blaise and the others were gone before Harry even got dressed leaving him to navigate on his own for a while. It wasn’t until he spotted the boy he met on the train, Ron, trying to get through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor that Harry felt like he could breathe. Ron had tried to tell him that they were just lost, but he wouldn’t believe that they weren’t trying to break into it on purpose. He was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell who was passing by. 

Then there were the classes. 

Harry thought he would like astronomy though that was only on Wednesdays at midnight. He couldn’t wait to learn about the different stars and constellations he rarely ever got to see. In Herbology, they would learn about plants and fungi, and find out what they were used for. Harry thought he might be good at that class at least. 

History of Magic, on the other hand, was the most boring of Harry’s classes. It was also the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who when he took roll reached   
Harry’s name, gave an excited squeak, then promptly toppled out of sight. 

Harry could hear Blaise’s chortle from the opposite side of the room. 

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right too think she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, there was no doubt she was serious when she said that anyone messing around in her class would have to leave and would not come back.

“You have been warned.”

Harry was relieved to find out that he wasn’t miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn’t any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even   
people like Ron or Malfoy didn’t have much of a head start. 

Meeting Ron at the entrance to the Great Hall had become sort of a routine. 

“Hey,” said Ron. “We have double potions together today. Snape’s head of your house right? They say he always favors you lot, maybe you’ll get lucky.” 

“Wish McGonagall favored us,” Ron continued.

“See you there?” asked Harry, ignoring the glares of his housemates who were eyeing him skeptically. 

Ron smiled brightly. “Of course,” said Ron before heading off to the Gryffindor table. 

Just then, the mail arrived. Hedwig had yet anything to deliver Harry, but she sometimes stopped by to steal a bite of his toast, and allow Harry to brush over her feathers. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the sugar and jam, and dodging Blaise’s grabby hand managed to drop a letter onto Harry’s plate. 

“Admirers already? You scoundrel!” boasted Blaise in an over the top voice. 

Harry opened the note slowly, avoiding the prying eyes of more than just Blaise. His housemates seemed ambivalent to him at the best of times, but while a few people from the other houses were downright staring at him, he   
didn’t miss the new look on the Slytherin’s faces. 

Dear Harry, 

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Harry pulled out his quill, and scribbled a Yes, I’ll see you there, on the back of the note before sending it off with Hedwig. 

At the start of term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. Harry knew by the end of that first Potions lesson that he had been wrong, it wasn’t dislike, it was hatred. 

The cold in this part of the dungeons would have made Harry’s skin prickle if he wasn’t already getting accustomed to the change in temperature in this part of the castle. 

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name. 

“Ah, yes,” he said softly. “Harry Potter. Our new ---celebrity.” 

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made Harry think of his cupboard under the stairs. 

Moving on, Snape got to the lesson. 

“I will teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Silence followed Snape’s speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks from across the room while Blaise just looked bored. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat, desperate to prove she, at least, wasn’t a   
dunderhead, while Millicent Bulstrode looked liked she was ready to push her off it. 

“Potter!” said Snape, suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Powdered root of what to where? 

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was, and it wasn’t like Crabbe was going to give him the answer. Hermione, though, shot her hand in the air as soon as Harry hesitated. 

“I don’t’ know, sir,” said Harry. 

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut,-- fame clearly isn’t everything.”

He ignored Hermione’s hand, still waving. 

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Hermione stretched her hand as high as it would go without her having to leave her seat. Millicent was smirking now, anxious to give that kick Hermione was apparently begging for. 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. If he backed down now the rest of his time at Hogwarts would be spent doing the same thing. He wouldn’t be put back under the stairs. 

Meanwhile, Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. Best put her out her misery, thought Harry. 

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

At this, Hermione shot out of her seat, hand waving wildly. 

“I don’t know,” said Harry sharply. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

Millicent, on the urge of toppling Hermione’s chair to the ground openly gaped at him as if he had just sprouted another head. 

A few people laughed, Ron’s housemate Seamus winked at him, trying to keep his laughter suppressed, Snape, however, was not as amused. 

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. Snape rattled off the correct answers, Hermione the only one writing down his every word until Snape snapped at the rest of the class to do the same. 

Things didn’t improve as Potions continued. Neville Longbottom whose potion had managed to melt through his cauldron and line the dungeon floor; had been drenched in the remaining that brought up angry, red boils   
up on his arms and legs. 

“Idiot boy!” Snape snapped. Barking at Seamus to accompany him to the hospital ring. 

“You---Potter---why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? You almost make me consider taking points from my own house, perhaps we can move you in with   
Longbottom and we can solve both our problems.”

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Blaise nudged him under the table. A slight nod of his head kept Harry’s mouth shut. 

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeons an hour later, Harry’s mind was racing and his spirits were low. Why did Snape hate him so much? What had he done? And just how was he supposed to learn all this with a teacher who seemed bent on humiliating and cornering him every chance that he got? 

“Cheer up,” said Ron. “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George, just be glad you’re a Slytherin and not another house or else you would have lost points for sure.” 

Harry was pushed to the side, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle making their presence known as they passed by Harry and Ron. 

“Ignore them,” said Ron. “Besides aren’t we going to Hagrid’s later?”

“We?” asked Harry. 

“Yeah, I can come right? If I have to see Neville’s boils again I think I might vom.” 

Harry laughed, clapping Ron on the shoulder, agreeing to meet him a little before three. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. 

When Harry knocked, they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid’s voice rang out saying, “Back, Fang---back.”

Hagrid’s face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open, yelling, “Back, Fang.”

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. 

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a kettle was boiling on the fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. 

“Make yourselves at home,” said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who instantly bounded toward Ron and began licking his face. 

“This is Ron,” Harry told Hagrid, who was putting some rock cakes onto a plate for them. 

“Another Weasley, eh?” said Hagrid, glancing at Ron’s freckles. “I spent half my life chasin’ yer brothers away from the forest.”

Fang rested his head on Harry’s knee and drooled all over his robes as Harry and Ron told Hagrid all about their first week. Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch “that old git.”

Harry told Hagrid about Snape’s lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students, even those in his own house. 

“But he seemed to really hate me.” Harry had seen enough of it, he should know. 

“Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?”

Yet Harry couldn’t help thinking that Hagrid didn’t quite meet his eyes when he said that. 

“How’s yer brother Charlie?” Hagrid asked Ron. “I liked him a lot---great with animals.”

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet. 

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn’t mentioned the date. The break-in had happened on his birthday. Harry wondered if it had been when they were   
there. 

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn’t meet Harry’s eyes when he passed the article to Ron and Ron exclaimed loudly, setting about to read the article. 

Ron read out loud, “The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that day.”

Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Was that what the thieves were looking for? 

As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle filled with enough rock cakes that weighed heavy in their bellies, Harry thought that none of the lessons he’s had so far had given him as much to think about as having tea   
with Hagrid. What did Hagrid do with the package? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about his new head of house that he wasn’t telling Harry, and why keep it from him?

 

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Aside from the snide remarks and jokes that he, Crabbe, and Goyle seemed to enjoy making at his expense, he mostly left Harry alone. Blaise on the other hand had no such qualms. Harry could hardly understand the other boy. To a lot of the Slytherins he was the equivalent of a social pariah, but Blaise seemed to stick with him regardless. He sat beside him in lessons, and at meals, but he never openly spoke out against Malfoy and his gang when he heard them laughing at Harry. 

He wasn’t a friend like how Ron was starting to become he was a different kind of one. 

“Typical,” said Harry when he spotted the poster in his common room. “Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. 

“You don’t know that you’ll make a complete fool out of yourself,” said Blaise reasonably. “Maybe just a little bit.”

“Anyway, I know Draco’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but you never know Potter maybe you’ll be a prodigy.” 

Harry wasn’t sure. Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the House teams, and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly   
escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn’t the only one. Seamus, Ron’s housemate, spent most of his life zooming around on his broom in the countryside. Even Ron had stories to tell about his time on a broom. 

Neville, Ron’s other housemate, had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Harry wasn’t sure she had been wrong, seeing the amount of accidents Neville had   
walking around on his own two feet. 

Millicent seemed just about as nervous as Neville. Even Harry knew that flying wasn’t something that could be learned out of a book, not that it kept Hermione Granger from flipping through Quidditch Through The Ages   
at breakfast that morning, Neville hanging on her every word over at the Gryffindor table. 

Harry hadn’t a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy’s eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened with enough pomp it could have been a letter from the queen. 

Harry noticed Neville receiving a package, but it wasn’t until they were leaving the Great Hall that he heard about what it was. 

“It’s a Remembrall!” he exclaimed. “Gran knows I forget things--- this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look,, you hold it right like this and if it turns red--oh…” His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet. “…--- you’ve forgotten something.” 

Nevillle was trying to remember what he had forgotten when Harry spotted Draco walking up behind him, and snatched the Remembrall out of Neville’s hand. 

Harry and Ron stepped nearer to Neville. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall stepped in just in time. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. 

“Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle at his back. 

 

At three o’clock that afternoon the Slytherins and Gryffindors were gathered on a piece of flat lawn near the side of the grounds opposite the Forbidden Forest. The broomsticks were lying on the ground next to them. He had   
heard Ron’s brothers complaining about the school brooms, but their teacher, Madam Hooch seemed to think they would be good enough. 

She had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

“Stick your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say Up!”

“Up,” everyone shouted. 

Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Grangers had simply rolled over. Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. When all the brooms were up in their respective owner’s hands, Madam Hooch then   
showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off. Harry smirked when he overheard her telling Malfoy that he had been gripping his broom wrong for years. 

She instructed them to push off lightly, but Neville overzealous pushed a little too hard launching himself into the air forcefully. 

“Come back, boy!” Madam Hooch shouted at him, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet, Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him   
gasp, and slide sideways off the broom. 

Neville hit the ground facedown. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the Forbidden Forest before it fell out of sight. 

Madam Hooch’s face was as white as Neville’s as heard her mutter something that sounded like “broken wrist”. 

“None of you are to move until I get back from the hospital wing. Leave the brooms were they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say, “Quidditch.”” 

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. 

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. 

“Did you see his face, the great lump?”

Some of the other students joined in. 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil. 

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.

“Look!” said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass before Parvati could say anything back. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. 

“Give that here, Malfoy,” said Harry quietly. Everyone instantly stopped talking to watch. 

Malfoy smiled nastily.

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find ---how about---up a tree?”

“Give it here!” Harry yelled then, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches on an oak he called. 

“Scared, Potter.”

Harry grabbed his broom.

“You wish.” 

“No!” shouted Hermione Granger. “Madam Hooch told us not to move—you’ll get us all into trouble.”

Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soar; and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he’d found something he could do without being taught—this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps from the crowd. Parvati and Millicent had moved closer together unwittingly to get a better look at Harry even as Blaise and Ron admit a whoop or two from the ground. 

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned. 

“Give it here,” Harry called. “or I’ll knock you off that broom!” 

“Oh, yeah?” said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried. 

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping. 

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Harry called. 

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. 

“Catch it if you can, then!” he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground. 

Harry saw it in slow motion, the ball rising up in the air and then starting to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down—next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball—wind   
whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching – he stretched out his hand—a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. 

“HARRY POTTER!”

His heart sank faster than he’d just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trying not to show how much he was trembling. 

“Never—in all my time at Hogwarts---“

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “—how dare you---might have broken your neck.—“

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor—“ 

“Be quiet, Miss Patil—“

“But Malfoy/ But Draco” Ron Weasley and Millicent Bulstrode said in tandem. 

“That’s enough, Potter, follow me, now.”

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle’s triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s shadow. Two weeks and he was already going to be expelled. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep. 

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase and inside, she didn’t say a word to him. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore? Or worse Snape? 

“If only you were in my house Potter,” she muttered, sounding disappointed. Was the punishment Snape was going to give him worse than what she would have given? It seemed that Professor McGonagall would be more   
lenient than Snape, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t let Snape do as he saw fit. 

She stopped in front of her classroom, the way to the dungeons lost on the way. “I’ve called for Madam Hooch, she will be here to determine your punishment.”

Harry was stunned. 

“What about Professor Snape?” muttered Harry. 

“The residing teacher doles out the punishment Mr. Potter, or the reward, and since Madam Hooch was your teacher at the moment neither, Professor Snape or I, have a say. Though I’m not sure you’ll be getting away   
without some form of punishment.”

Professor McGonagall looked at him almost regretfully. 

“Light, speedy, you were great Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. 

Then she suddenly smiled. And Harry felt instantly better. 

“Your father would have been proud,” she said. “It seems you’ve inherited some of his talents. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.”

“I never knew,” said Harry. McGonagall’s gaze softened slightly. Madam Hooch entered the room. Neville? Harry wanted to ask, but she beat him to it. “Longbottom will be fine. He might have to stay a few days, but he   
should be back in his dorm soon enough.”

Harry was relieved. He liked Neville. He liked him better than some of his housemates, and he definitely liked him more than Draco sodding Malfoy. 

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he’d forgotten all about   
it. 

“What did Snape do to you?”

Snape, huh? 

“Snape didn’t even come see me to deliver his punishment. All he said was that I have detention for next week, and I have to write lines.”

“Ouch,” said Fred.

“What?” said Harry. 

Fred and George laughed. “You can’t tell me you honestly believe the old bats going to let you get away with writing lines do you?”

Ron nudged his brothers. “Don’t scare him.”

Hermione Granger eyed the twins reproachfully. 

George looked at him. “I’d just watch your back Harry. Snape is a bit like Filch, he likes more creative punishments.” 

“Yeah,” said Fred. “And the best part is you won’t even realize it’s a punishment until it’s too late.” 

Harry nodded once quickly, hoping that the twins were wrong. 

 

Flint was on him as soon as he walked back to the common room. The news of his little adventure had obviously made the rounds. 

“If that was your tryout, Potter, I’d have to say you should have tried it on someone else, the Captain perhaps? Anyone but McGonagall. You’re lucky she didn’t dock any points for your and Malfoy’s little stunt. 

“Ease up, Flint,” a dark haired boy said. 

“Bit me, Pucey, or do you want to run extra laps around the pitch tomorrow?” 

Pucey backed off, shooting Harry an apologetic glance. 

“You’re lucky McGonagall loves her Quidditch almost as much as we do.”

“She also hates losing,” another boy piped up. 

“You’d know about that wouldn’t you Higgs,” said Pucey. “With as many times as you let the Quaffle past you last practice, you should be an expert by now.”

Pucey then proceeded to lock Higgs in a headlock, the pair falling to the floor in a heap as Marcus looked on unperturbed. Sensing his presence was no longer required Harry started to slink off. 

“I’d like to see you fly sometime, Potter. I’m always looking for new talent in case people get too comfortable.”

Harry nodded. “Sure.”

“And don’t worry about Snape. He likes to win, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, I have an idea.


	3. Quidditch Time

It turned out that sometime was sooner rather than later. Flint had barged into Harry’s dormitory a few days later that week. Harry had spent the night before in Snape’s classroom writing lines while Snape did his best to pretend like Harry wasn’t even there. Harry was used to it though, he wrote and wrote until Snape dismissed him with a few words before trudging back to his dormitory to fall into bed. 

“Up, Potter, get some clothes on, we’re going to the pitch.” 

Harry hadn’t needed any more instructions. He had thrown some clothes on, and had thankfully had enough foresight to grab one of the school broom’s from the shed because when he got to the pitch Flint was already there waiting impatiently, only his broom in hand.

Some of the other members of the team Terrance Higgs and Adrian Pucey among them were flying around the pitch, looping and tossing what looked like a rather large medicine ball. At Flint’s feet was a large wooden chest. Harry had never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seas were raised in stand around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles   
with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high. 

Flint opened the crate. Inside were spots for four different sized balls. 

“Right,” said Flint. “The first thing you need to know is that Quidditch is everything.” 

Harry nodded obligatorily.   
“That ball,” he pointed up at the other players. “is the Quaffle. The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops.”

Flint didn’t stop to ask if Harry was following, he just plowed on. 

“Now, there’s another player on each side who’s called the Keeper, they fly around the hoops and stop the other team’s members from scoring.” 

Flint clapped his hands together excitedly. 

“Now, I get to show you what the Bludgers do. Take this.” He handed Harry a small club, like a small baseball bat. 

He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps bolding them inside the crate. 

“Stand back,” Flint warned. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers. 

At once, the black ball soared high into the sky and then pelted straight at Harry’s face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from smashing into his face, and sent it zigzagging into the air, it dived around for a   
moment before taking off for the fliers in the sky. 

“Let’s see them avoid that thing,” said Flint more to himself than to Harry. 

“The Bludgers rocket around trying to knock players off their brooms. That’s why you have two Beaters on each team—your Gryffindor friends are the ones for Wood’s team—it’s the Beaters job to knock the Bludgers away from their teammates and toward the other team.” 

Flint looked at him expectantly. 

“The Chasers use the Quaffle to score points by putting them through the hoops. The Keeper tries to block the Quaffle. The Beaters bat the Bludgers away from the Chasers and towards the other team to prevent them   
from scoring.” 

“Good,” clipped Flint. 

“Er….have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

“Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws, but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker.” 

Flint reached into the crate and took out the last ball. It was tiny, maybe the size of large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings. 

“This”, said Flint. “is the Golden Snich, and it’s the most important ball of the lot. It’s fast and difficult to see, and you have to catch it before the other team’s seeker does. Whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. The game ends when the Snitch is caught. Three months is the record, but I would expect any of my players to beat that if it mean getting a win.” 

Harry nodded. 

“I’d mount your broom if I were you.” 

Harry did so, and Flint let the little Golden Snitch free and his eyes told Harry to get to it to. What a feeling—as he swooped in and out of the goalposts, round and round the pitch speeding up and slowing down. No   
longer was he concerned with his audition for the team, he was just flying. He caught up with the Snitch a few times, but he wasn’t ready to let this go yet. 

When he finally came back to the ground, Flint was looking at him with an indeterminate look on his face. Harry handed him the Snitch and Flint locked it away inside the box along with the other balls. Harry hadn’t even noticed that the other players had already left the field. Flint turned to him, and nodded. 

“Good job, Potter,” said Flint. It was the closest thing to a compliment Harry had ever heard the older boy give and he was pleased. “Now, this doesn’t guarantee you a spot on the team, mind, but you fly better than most I’ve seen and certainly better than any first year.” 

Harry plucked up. 

“So, does that mean I’m like an alternate or something?” asked Harry. 

Flint scoffed. 

“You will come to practice with the team. You will do what I ask without complaint or question, but as far as alternate?” Flint smiled. “Let’s call you more of a water boy.” 

 

That morning at breakfast, Harry plopped down at the Gryffindor table eager to tell Ron all about his practice with Flint, but was intercepted by the Weasley twins. 

“You got off easy, mate,” said Fred Weasley as he sat down beside the pair, his brother taking the spot on their other side. 

“Too bad, mate,” said George. “The way Wood tells it McGonagall was raving about how good you were. We need a seeker, but I guess Wood will just have to hold tryouts.”

“Maybe Flint will have mercy on you, let you be their water boy or something like that?” Fred suggested. Harry just shook off their good natured ribbing, not bothering to tell them how close they were to the truth. He had   
to be getting back to Slytherin table anyway. Blaise had been trying and failing not to eye him for the past few minutes.

“Anyway, we’ve got to go. Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”

“Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you.”

Harry stood. “I’ll see you later, Ron.”

“See you,” Ron said, turning back to his food. 

Back at the Slytherin table some far less welcome company than Fred and George greeted him. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

“Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the Muggles?”

“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you,” said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers,   
neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl. 

“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only—no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?” 

“Of course he has,” a voice says behind Harry. Neville Longbottom was standing behind him looking much more sound than he had earlier that day despite the wrap he wore around his arm. “I’m his second, who’s yours?” 

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. 

“Crabbe,” he said. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room, that’s always unlocked.”

Nodding to Neville, Harry watched as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle went and sat at their part of the table. 

Keeping his face stoic, he turned to Neville. “What is a wizard’s duel?” whispered Harry. “And what do you mean, you’re my second?” 

“It’s just a formality, really,” stuttered Neville. 

“You mean if I like die, or something?” 

Catching the look on Harry’s face Neville continued. “People only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you know enough   
magic to do any real damage.”

“Neville,” said Harry. “I didn’t think you’d be out of the hospital yet anyway.”

Neville looked at his arm like it still hurt. “I wasn’t really ready, but I told Madame Pomfrey that I felt well enough to leave. I needed to thank you.”

“For what?” asked Harry. 

“For standing up for me when no one else did,” replied Neville. “I had to tell you how grateful I was. You, a Slytherin, standing up for me against Malfoy, I’m sure that won’t do you any favors in your house, but you did it anyway.   
So, thanks Harry.”

Harry nodded, glad that at least Neville was all right before they both potentially met their deaths in a midnight duel with Malfoy and his goons. 

“So, tonight, what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?”

Neville flounders. “Perhaps we should talk to Ron.” 

Before Neville and Harry could get up something round and hard hit Harry square in the face. 

He looked up. It was Millicent Bulstrode. 

“Are you mad, Potter?” she asked. “You already have detention and you want to go running around the school at night? You’ll lose more than just your place here, but a whole lot of Slytherin’s house points. Draco really should   
know better, but since you seem to have marginally more sense you should back out while you still have a chance?”

No, Harry thought instantly. If there was one thing he had learned so far about being Slytherin was that any sign of weakness would be pounced on, and he didn’t need to give anyone any more reason to look at him. He was going to duel Malfoy and Neville was going to be his second. Next, they had to talk to Ron.

Harry, Ron, and Neville had spent the majority of that night in the library preparing. Ron had spent most of the evening giving him advice such as “If he tries to curse you, you better dodge it, because I can’t remember   
how to block them.” There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy’s sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness—this was his chance to settle things with Malfoy face to face. He couldn’t miss it. 

“Half past eleven,” Ron greeted as Harry met him near the Gryffindor common room. 

“Where’s Neville?” 

The portrait opened again. “That must be him, he said he’d be just a minute,”

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this.”

It wasn’t Neville, but Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. 

“You!” said Ron furiously. “Go back to bed.”

“I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped. “When I heard you and Neville talking about it, I had hoped one of you would at least come to your senses. 

Harry couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering. 

“Where’s Neville?” he asked. 

“Please,” Hermione answered. “I put a simple charm on the stairs. By the time he figures it out it’ll be too late.” 

“Come on,” said Harry moving down the hallway, but Hermione Granger wasn’t going to give up that easy. She followed him down the hallway, hissing at them like an angry goose.

“Don’t you care about Gryffindor,” she hissed at Ron. “Or Slytherin,” she asked Harry. 

“Go away,” Ron muttered 

“All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you’re on the train back home tomorrow, you’re so—“

But what they were they didn’t find out. Hermione had turned toward the portrait hole only to find an empty painting. It’s subject having moved on, leaving Hermione locked out of Gryffindor tower. 

“Now what am I going to do?” she asked shrilly. 

“That’s your problem,” said Ron. “We’ve got to go, we’re going to be late.” 

They hadn’t even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them. 

“I’m coming with you,” she said. 

After some negotiating and threatening, Hermione had fallen in line and three were heading off towards the trophy room. 

Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. The crystal trophy case glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy   
leapt out and started at once. 

“He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out,” Ron whispered. 

A noise in the next room made them all jump, but it wasn’t Malfoy. 

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

It was Filch and Mrs. Norris. 

“I told you,” Hermione hissed, and that was all it took.

Harry ushered the two of them out leading them down another hallway and into another Filch right on their heels. 

“Malfoy tricked you,” Hermione said to Harry. “You realize that, don’t you?” she said when they were far enough from Filch to feel somewhat safe. 

“He was never going to meet you—Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off.”

Harry had figured that much out for himself, thank you. 

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t going to be that simple. They hadn’t gone much more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

Instantly, Peeves shouted, “STUDENT OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR! LITTLE FIRS….”

“RUN!” Ron shouted. 

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed the door --- and it was locked. 

“This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door. 

“We’re done for! This is the end!” 

Luckily, students weren’t the only ones that Peeves enjoyed playing with. After a bout of tantrums and double talk between Peeves and Filch, they heard Filch moving away from the door. 

“Guys?” Hermione said. 

“Not now,” replied Ron. 

“Gu…yss…”, she said again, her voice broken. 

Ron turned. 

“What’s your pro…..”

Harry turned around—and saw quite clearly what the problem was. For a moment, he was sure he’d walked into a nightmare—this as too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. 

They weren’t in a room as he supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden. 

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads.   
Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, slaving hanging from yellow fangs.   
They had taken it by surprise, but it was clear they were getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. 

Harry groped for the doorknob—between Filch and death, he’d take Filch. They fell to the ground, shutting the door, and standing as fast as they could and ran. And didn’t stop running until they reached the break between the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms. 

“Did you see that?” Hermione asked, finally catching her breath and her temper. 

“The giant three headed dog? Yeah, I think we saw that,” replied Ron, quite sarcastic after a near death experience. 

Hermione huffed. “You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. 

“Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” Harry suggested. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too bust with its heads.”

“No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.”

She straightened, glaring at them. 

“I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed ---or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

Ron stared after her, his mouth open. 

“No, we don’t mind,” he said. “You’d think we dragged her along, wouldn’t you?”

But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed into bed that night. The dog was guarding something… What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you   
wanted to hide –except perhaps Hogwarts. 

It looked as though Harry had found out what the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, call me, I have an idea.


	4. Halloween

Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Harry that morning, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Harry smirked at him leaving the room with a, “Scared, Malfoy?” before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

After filling in Ron about the package from Gringotts they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection. 

“It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Ron. 

“Or both,” said Harry. 

Both Neville and Hermione had refused to utter a syllable about what had happened the night before. Other than the mystery and three headed dog, things were going great. Hogwarts was beginning to feel more like home that Pivet Drive ever had. His lessons too were becoming more and more interesting now that they had covered the basics. 

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced the shared Gryffindor and Slytherin charms class that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly. 

When Flitwick partnered them Harry got Blaise while Ron, not so lucky, got Hermione. At least, it wasn’t Seamus Finnigan who Harry noted hadn’t managed to float his feather but had succeeded in making it burst into flames. 

When Hermione had successfully managed to levitate her feather, Ron had soured. He was in a very bad mood by the end of class. 

“It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione, Harry caught a glimpse of her face—and was startled to see that she was in tears. 

“I think she heard you.”

“So?” said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

Hermione didn’t show up for their next class, and wasn’t see all afternoon. On his way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast Harry overheard Pansy Parkinson telling Tracey Davis about how she had seen that “bushy haired know it all” crying in the bathroom earlier, but that she had shooed off the two of her dorm mates that were trying to talk to her saying that she wanted to be left alone. 

“I’d be upset to if I had that head of hair,” Tracey Davis said tossing her long perfectly straight hair over her shoulder. Harry wanted to hex all her hair into the floor. 

Harry had never seen so much food in his life as he had since he’s been at Hogwarts. After periods of near starvation at the Dursley’s, Harry wasn’t shy about pilling up the food. Malfoy had said something snide once   
about his table manners, but Harry had just ignored him and kept eating. He hadn’t said anything since. The rest of Harry’s housemates clearly had different upbringings than Harry did. All quaint bites, and use of all their silverware. Harry didn’t care, though. He knew what it was like to be hungry, and he wasn’t going to let the likes of Malfoy and his minions keep him from not having not feel that way here, not at this place that was starting to feel like a home. 

That’s why Pansy Parkinson’s snide voice caught his attention when she spoke. 

“You really think you need all that, Bulstrode? No wonder you always dress in the bathroom.”

And okay, Harry knew Millicent could take care of herself. Harry had heard her creative use of language on more than one occasion since he got here, but before she told Parkinson to shut her little dog face, Harry saw the flash of hurt flick across her face. She stayed long enough for everyone to forget the incident and move on, everyone but Harry. 

So, when Millicent got up and headed out the doors of the Great Hall, Harry noticed. Harry was about to stand to follow her out when Professor Quirrel came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. 

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know.” 

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. 

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence. 

“Prefects,” he rumbled. “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately.” 

Harry heard Percy Ron’s brother yelling frantically to Gryffindor house, while Flint tried his best to sort the Slytherins into a line. Harry knew it was now or never. As far as he knew Millicent was still out there. Ducking his head down, he joined a group of excited looking Hufflepuffs moving toward the direction of what Harry thought was the closest girl’s bathroom. 

He had just turned the corner when he heard footsteps behind him. For a second he thought it might be Flint or maybe Blaise, but it wasn’t them, it was Snape. Harry watched as he crossed the corridor then vanished out of sight. 

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and a pile of rotten bananas. And then he heard it, a low groaning, and the shuffling of footfalls of gigantic feet. 

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It was carrying a large wooden club that dragged along the floor. 

The troll stopped at a doorway before slowly moving into the room. Harry was going to lock it in, but as he reached the door he heard something that made his heart stop—a pair of high pitched screams coming from the   
room the troll had just walked into. 

Could he run for help? Would it be too late? Another scream made the decision for him, he couldn’t leave Hermione and he wasn’t going to leave Millicent. Harry pulled the door open and ran inside. 

Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode each stood on one side of the troll wands in the air attempting to shoot sparks at the beast but everything was falling flat. 

“Come on, Granger, you’re a witch aren’t you?” Millicent shouted. 

The troll moved towards Hermione apparently thinking she was the easier target when Harry shouted, “Confuse it!” at the top of his lungs effectively drawing the troll to his side of the room. The troll stooped a few feet from   
Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly to see what had just made the noise. Its eyes saw Harry reaching for him, club in hand. 

“Troll!” Hermione yelled from the other side of the room, metal pipe in hand as she threw it up to hit the troll square in the shoulder. It didn’t feel the hit, but it did hear her voice turning just enough for Harry to slide by it. 

“Come on now, run, run!” Harry yelled at Hermione, but that only succeeded in turning the troll towards Millicent. The troll was so close to her that she was backed against the wall, her mouth open with terror. All the screaming was making the troll go berserk. 

Then Harry did something stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll’s neck from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Harry on his back, but he did feel the long piece of wood shoved up his nose, Harry’s wand hanging triumphantly out of the troll’s nose. 

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life, any second, the troll was going to buck him off or Hermione and Millicent were going to be taken out by his wild club. 

“Together!” Harry heard Millicent shout. And as one Harry heard Millicent Bulstrode and Hermione Granger shout at the top of their lungs: “Wingardium Leviosa!” 

The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over—and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner’s head. The troll swayed before falling flat on his face on the bathroom floor. 

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Both Hermione and Millicent just stood there with a look of sheer amazement on their faces. 

It was Millicent that spoke first. 

“YES, GRANGER!!!” Millicent shouted exuberantly. “We did it! Potter!”

Hermione smiled, a shocked laugh pulling its way out of her lungs. 

“Is it—dead?” she asked. 

“I don’t think so,” said Harry. “I think it’s just been knocked out.” 

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll’s nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue. 

He wiped it off on the troll’s trousers. 

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn’t realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard them. Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrel came bursting into the room. Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall looked angrier than Harry had ever seen her. She looked from Harry to Millicent to a still awe struck looking Hermione. 

“What on earth were you thinking? You’re lucky you weren’t killed? Why weren’t you in your dormitories?”

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He could tell he was about to get a dressing down, and was bracing himself when a small voice came up beside him. 

“Please, Professor McGongall, Professor Snape—they came looking for me.”

“Miss Granger!” 

“I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I’ve read all about them.”

Harry was flabbergasted. Hermione Granger telling a downright lie to a teacher?

“If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up his nose, and Millicent…”

“Hermione and I…” Millicent spoke up. 

Hermione looked at her. “Millicent and I knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to go and find anyone. It was about to finish me off when they found me.” 

Professor McGonagall looked straight through them. 

“Miss Granger, you foolish girl ” said Professor McGonagall. “How could you think you could handle a mountain troll on your own?” 

Hermione hung her head. Millicent looked like she wanted to say something, but the fierceness in Professor McGonagall’s voice thankfully kept her silent. “I’m very disappointed. Five points from Gryffindor for your   
actions.”

Millicent broke. 

“But she helped us, Professor, we couldn’t have taken out that troll if it wasn’t for….”

“And,” Professor McGonagall said. “Five points to all of you for achieving something kids in higher years would have trouble succeeding in.” 

“Do you have anything to add Professor Snape?” 

Snape regarded them coolly. 

“If none of you are in need of Madame Pomfrey I would suggest getting back to your dormitories, but in the interest of this new interhouse unity, minus ten points from Slytherin.” 

With a quick nod, they were excused from the chamber, and didn’t speak at all until they got back to the entrance of the Great Hall. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else. 

Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly. 

He laughed. “I guess fighting off a troll really makes you hungry. McGonagall did say something about the food being brought to the common rooms.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. 

“Yeah,” Millicent said. “I think I’m going to go get something to eat,” she said pointedly looking at Harry. Harry smiled, grateful that all it took was taking on a giant troll for Millicent to realize that Pansy and her horde weren’t nearly as important as she thought they were. 

“You did good, Granger,” praised Millicent. 

“Yeah,” Hermione smiled. “, but you know, I think you and I could have handled it even if Harry hadn’t have showed up.” 

“Ha,” Harry scoffed. “Tell that to my wand.” And the three of them laughed for awhile before agreeing that it was time to head back. As Harry and Millicent made their way to the dungeons and Hermione to the tower the three looked back at one another and from that point forward Hermione Granger had two new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, call me, I have an idea.


	5. Seeker?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter clearly does not belong to me, I just love them.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake looked like chilled steel. The colder weather meant that Quidditch season had begun. Saturday would be the first game of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. 

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn’t know how he’d have gotten through all his homework, without her, what with all of Flint’s last minute practice sessions. It didn’t matter that he hardly got off the ground or that the others barely acknowledged him. Flint told him that he wanted him to be there, that he maybe had a chance, so he was there. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Millicent strolled out for a walk the day before the game. Harry may only be a spectator, but there was something about the feel of the pitch. Hermione conjured a bright blue fire that could be carried in a jam jar to keep them warm. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry and Millie moved in front of the jar sure that it wouldn’t be allowed. He limped over. He hadn’t seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway. 

“What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?” 

It was Quidditch Through the Ages, a book Hermione had showed him. Harry showed Snape the book. 

“Tsk, tsk, library books are not to be taken outside of the castle,” said Snape. “Give it to me.” 

“It’s his own copy,” Millicent covered quickly. “I got it for him.” 

Snape looked at her, but Millicent stood even straighter. 

“Well then, Miss Bulstrode, nice to see you’re making friends.” Snape looked like friends was anything other than a positive word. 

“He’s just made that rule up,” Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. 

“What’s wrong with his leg?” Hermione asked. 

“I don’t know, but I hope it’s really hurting him,” said Ron angrily. Harry tucked the book into his bag, grateful to have it for a distraction from tomorrow. 

 

Harry had a feeling, and that usually meant that he was going to get into trouble. “Keep that look to yourself, Potter,” said Millicent. “The last time I saw that look Granger and I had to save you from a mountain troll.”

Harry huffed, rolling to his side so he could see her better where she hanged upside down off the side of Blaise’s bed. Blaise sitting on the floor beside her. 

“You saw Snape’s leg, something happened.” 

Millicent rolled her eyes. 

“You’re going to ask him to strip for you?” asked Blaise. 

“I just want to see his leg, see what happened.” 

“You want to get expelled,” said Millicent. “You’d think you wanted to go back home.”

Millicent didn’t know the full extent of his time with the Dursley’s, but he had a feeling the Slytherins knew more than they let on. Harry slipped out of the room their eyes on his back. 

He slipped out of the common room then into the hall. He made his way down to the staffroom where he found the door ajar. 

He peered inside where a horrible scene met his eyes. Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. 

“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

Harry tried to step away from the door quietly, but part of his leg nudged it. Both Snape and Filch turned toward the door at once. Snape’s face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. 

Snape hobbled toward the door, and Harry dared not breathe. Filch moved to stand beside him. 

“Probably just Peeves,” said Filch. Snape didn’t look convinced, but he moved back into the room making sure to shut the door all the way this time. 

Harry left, moving as quick as he dared back to the common room. He had something to tell Millicent and Blaise. 

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he’d seen. 

“You know what this means?” he finished breathlessly. “That’s where he was going when I saw him on Halloween, and I’d bet anything he’s the one who let the troll in as a distraction.” 

Millicent spoke up. 

“He wouldn’t, Harry, I know Snape’s not your favorite Professor, but I don’t think he’d go against Dumbledore. He’s smarter than that.”

“I agree,” said Blaise and Millicent gave him an “I told you so” look. “Unless,” said Blaise. “It was something really worth it.” 

But what, Harry wondered, would that be for Snape? 

 

The next morning dawned bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of friend sausages and cheerful chatter of those who were looking forward to a good Quidditch match. 

By eleven o’clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes. Harry had walked down with the rest of the Slytherin team. In the locker room, the team changed into their emerald Quidditch robes. Harry opted to wear his school robes, Slytherin green tie, and a scarf he borrowed from Blaise because he knew it might get a little chilly. 

His job was to hand towels to players, to fetch them water, and basically be the mule that carried whatever it was the players happened to have need of. Harry knew he was decent on a broom, but his team was stout. 

There was no way he was going to get play today. It didn’t matter though, Flint said that they were in for an easy win. Fred and George had told him about Gryffindor’s new seeker, but they wouldn’t be a match for Slytherin’s more   
experienced one. 

Harry followed the team out of the locker room his knees apparently having not got the message that he was just standing on the sidelines as they shook with each step he took. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in hand. 

“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,” she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that Flint got the most of that message, but he seemed unperturbed as he stared hardly at the Gryffindor captain   
and fellow fifth year, Oliver Wood. 

“Mount your brooms, please,”

Harry clambered to the side of the field. He wouldn’t be on a broom, but he had a school one at his side just in case he needed to fly up to deliver something to a waiting player. 

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her whistle, and fifteen brooms rose high and higher into the air. They were off. 

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—“

“JORDAN!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Lee Jordan with several asides from Professor McGonagall was giving the commentary. Flint looks good like he’s about to score when he’s blocked with a shot by Wood. A few more passes and the Gryffindors score. 

Cheers fill the air from the Gryffindors and their supporters. Even from the ground Harry was watching for the Snitch. The two seekers were doing nothing more than zooming up and above the rest of the action, but   
Harry’s eyes were peeled. He caught something flicker off one of the Weasley’s wristwatches, before one of them shot a Bludger straight at Marcus. 

Slytherin was in possession again. Adrian Pucey was flying through the Weasleys and the Chaser Bell straight towards the goal, but when Lee Jordan said something about the Snitch Pucey looked up at the flash of gold   
that passed his ear and promptly dropped the Quaffle. 

Harry saw it. And with a rush he saw his team’s seeker, Terrance Higgs see it as well. He zoomed after it slyly so that the Gryffindor seeker wouldn’t get suspicious. It didn’t work. Spotting Terrance moving toward the Snitch the unexperienced seeker moved toward him at full speed nearly toppling him in his inability to stop if it wasn’t for Flint moving in to take the brunt of the blow. Flint fell from his broom in a spectacular manner, the Chaser falling to the Earth faster than Harry could believe before Madam Hooch cast a charm that slowed Flints decent. Still, Flint hit the ground his body making several loud cracks that silenced the stadium. The game stopped as Wood went straight over to chastise his overzealous seeker, his eyes on Marcus as the boy was floated and carted toward where Harry was standing. Flint tried to sit up, but it was clear that part of his leg was bent in most unnatural way. 

The game was halted as Wood flew to the ground to stand beside Marcus as the Captains and Madam Hooch conferred. 

“You can’t play minus a player, Flint,” said Wood. “And you don’t have an alternate, and you simply cannot play with that leg even if Pomfrey came down right now. Just forget it and we can reschedule.”

Harry thought that was good of Wood, but Madam Hooch quickly squashed that idea. 

“Your team has already scored Wood, and so, the game cannot simply be waved away. If Mr. Flint cannot continue then that means that you win.”

“BUT!” the two captains said at the same time. 

“But nothing, Mr. Wood, Mr. Flint, you two know the rules.” 

Wood looked sorry, but Marcus looked furious and defeated until he caught Harry’s gaze. Harry looked away quickly realizing that he had no business to be watching the exchange in the first place. He wasn’t even on the   
team. 

“Wait, Potter,”

“Yes, Mr. Flint,” Madam Hooch said patiently, looking at his head to see if maybe he had a head injury as well. “That is Harry Potter.”

“No, Potter,”

“I think he means that Potter is his alternate?” said Wood looking to Marcus for confirmation. 

“Yes, he knows how to fly, he knows the rules. He can play. Potter can play.” 

Wood smiled. 

“Can you do it, Potter, think you could be a chaser?” said Wood. 

Yeah, Harry thought, putting his hand out, and the broom automatically finding it’s way to his hand. He nodded. 

“Great,” said Wood at the same time Marcus said, “Don’t mess this up, Potter.” 

By the time Harry was in the air, Pucey had gotten their penalty shot, and the score was tied. Harry had never played Chaser before, but he was sure that he could manage. Put the Quaffle through the hoop, don’t get slammed by a   
Bludger. Simple. 

Except, as Harry moved to dodge another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head his broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall too. He gripped the   
broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He hadn’t been flying for long, but he didn’t think a broom was supposed to do that. 

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. Harry tried to turn back to the goalposts conscious that Marcus may not be watching, but that he wouldn’t be at all pleased if Harry somehow messed this up. 

It was when his broom stopped mid-air that he knew something was dangerously wrong. He couldn’t turn it. He couldn’t direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him. 

Someone was cheering, Harry didn’t know who. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry’s broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. 

“What on Earth is he doing?” Millicent asked. 

“Going for a stroll,” replied Malfoy, laughing with Crabbe and Goyle. 

“A violent stroll,” Pansy noted. “It looks like he’s lost control of his broom.”

Suddenly people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry’s broom had given a wild jerk, leaving Harry   
dangling off from it, holding on with only one hand. 

“Harry’s better than that, we all saw it,” said Millicent. 

“What could be wrong? It would take strong magic to jinx his broom,” said Blaise. 

At these words, Millicent looked around, spotting Snape in the teacher’s section. She made a choice. Turning to Blaise, she whispered, “Snape.” 

Blaise turned that way inconspicuously. He had his eyes on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath. 

Blaise nodded. “What should we do?”

“We have to help him, he’d do the same for us,” said Millicent, prepared to tackle Snape to the ground if she had too. 

The game had slowed to nothing as Pucey and Wood had moved closer to Harry, but every time they got close the broom would push Harry even higher. 

Higgs zoomed by them, hovering below Harry, but he could see his eyes were still peeled for the Snitch. Harry knew he was going to fall, and decided to do the only thing he could think of. He saw it the same time Higgs   
did. Letting go off his broom at the perfect moment he fell mouth open and screaming until he landed on the back of Terrance’s broom. The combined weight of the two boys pushed the broom closer to the ground, and Harry jumped rolling then stopping on the ground on all fours. He coughed and something cold fell into his hand. 

“I’ve got the Snitch!” he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Cheers and awes filled the stadium, but Harry heard none of it. Slytherin had won, Marcus was in the hospital, Higgs announced that after that scare he thought he would be safer on the ground and thus, was quitting the team, Harry was promoted to seeker by a happier than he’d ever seen him Marcus Flint, Malfoy was sour, and Blaise and Millicent had something very important to tell Harry. 

His broom hadn’t lost control on his own. It was Snape. 

His head of house had tried to kill him. 

Harry had to go to the only adult who he knew he could trust. 

“It was Snape,” Ron explained. “Hermione and I saw him, too. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you. Hermione was most of the way toward Snape when you made that daring leap.”

“No way,” said Hagrid, who hadn’t heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. “Why would Snape do something like that?”

Harry, Millicent and Blaise had been heading out the door of the castle when they stumbled upon Ron and Hermione. They were just about to head to the Slytherin common room to warn them about Snape. Harry asked them to come to Hagrid’s with him just in case he needed back up. 

“I found out something about him,” he told Hagrid. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding—“

Hagrid dropped the teapot. 

“How do you know about Fluffy?” he said. 

“Fluffy?” 

“Yeah, he’s mine, bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the….”

“Yes!” said Harry eagerly.

“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to steal it.”

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” cried Millicent, clearly unhappy with Hagrid’s nonchalant attitude. 

Hermione shook her head. “I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!”

“I’m tellin’ yey, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all of yeh’s, yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s   
dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel…..”

“Aha!” said Harry. “so there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved is there?” 

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, if you're reading this, I have an idea.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter, clearly. Any mistakes are mine, this was clearly unbeta'd. Thank you for reading.

“I don’t know how you do this?” breathed Ron, his breath coming out in a mist around him. It was chilly in the dungeons Snape’s room in particular, but it was something that Harry was getting used to, Ron, not so much. 

Christmas was coming and overnight it seemed as if all the snow the clouds had to offer dumped themselves down on Hogwarts at once. 

“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.” 

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled, but they were the only ones. If only you knew, Harry thought at Mafoy. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. 

It was true that Harry wasn’t going back to Pivet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn’t feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he had ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Blaise was one of the only Slytherins beside himself staying at the castle, something vague about his mother and her new husband that he refused to elaborate on. 

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocked the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them Hagrid was behind it. 

“Hi, Hagrid, need any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches. 

“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.”

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoys cold drawl from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose—that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the staris. 

“WEASLEY!”

“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid. “Malfoy was insulting his family.”

“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, and be grateful that it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.” 

The three boys pushed passed them leaving needles everywhere. 

“I’ll get him,” said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one of these days, I’ll get him—“

After chatting with Hagrid, Hermione found them and escorted them to the library. Harry knew Hagrid would be tight lipped at the subject of Nicholas Flamel. He wasn’t in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Times, he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. 

Going off of Hermione’s detailed list they set to work. Madame Pince the librarian was quick to shoo him out of the restricted section, but since that train was leaving the next day they hardly had any time at all to try to figure out the mystery of Nicholas Flamel. 

 

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. Roasting marshmellows, and plotting ways to get Malfoy expelled from school took up the majority of their time.   
Ron even started teaching Harry wizard chess. One of Ron’s dorm mates Seamus Finnigan had lent Harry his chess set before he went home for Christmas, but it turned out there was another one in the Slytherin common room. 

“Care to play, Potter,” Millicent Bulstrode asked him as he walked into the common room. “My hands getting a little sore having spanked Blaise so often.” 

“Ha ha,” Blaise mocked, though he smiled at her affectionately. When she heard Harry was staying Millicent had owled her family and told them that she too would be staying behind. 

“With you staying Potter I’m sure they’ll be some action that I simply cannot miss. My parents will understand,” she had said. Grateful either way she was going to be useful if he was ever going to beat Ron at chess. 

Smiling, he accepted her invitation, as Blaise moved to the side to watch them play. “She’s tricky, Potter, you’ve got to watch her.” 

Harry and Millicent shared a smile. “I think I can handle it.” 

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of   
packages at the foot of his bed. 

“Happy Christmas, Potter,” said Blaise sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe. 

“You too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!” 

“What did you expect?” said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry’s. 

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry From Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it—it   
sounded a bit like an owl. 

A second, very small parcel contained a note. 

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. 

“Your slave wages?” asked Blaise, though he was fascinated by the fifty pence. 

“This is money?” he asked. 

“You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Blaise seemed to be. 

“Hagrid, and my aunt and uncle –so who sent the rest of these?”

“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Blaise, pointing at a rather neatly wrapped box. “I caught Millie flipping through a wizarding catalog a few weeks ago, but I wouldn’t go asking her about it, she’d just deny it was   
from her.” 

Harry opened the package slowly, pulling out a rather large camera. 

“Wow!” exclaimed Blaise. “That witch, she got you the newest model and all she got me was this mirror.”

Harry looked over at him. 

“Suits you,” he said, remembering that he needed to thank Millicent, in the most inconspicuous way possible, of course. 

Blaise moved to the side of his bed, ducking under before pulling out something for Harry as well. 

He handed it to Harry. “It’s not from me,” he said with a smirk. 

Harry took it gratefully, reaching for the Slytherin scarf he had gotten for Blaise a few weeks ago. 

“So you have something new to look at in that mirror of yours,” said Harry. 

The next package was from Ron’s mother, Mrs. Weasley. He had also attached a note: I told my mum that you didn’t expect any presents this year. Sorry, but those muggles of you really are quite awful. Every year she makes us a   
sweater, welcome to the club. 

It was a thick, hand knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. 

He’d have to send her a thank you note. He’d send it out when he saw Hedwig at breakfast. Next was a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. He’d hope she liked what he had sent her. 

The last parcel was surprisingly light despite his size. He unwrapped it. 

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming fields. Blaise gasped. 

“Is that….?” He said in a hushed voice, dropping his next present onto the bed, Harry’s scarf still tied around his neck. 

“What is it?”

Harry picked up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. 

“It’s valuable, Potter. I wouldn’t go telling many people about it, if I were you, especially in this dorm,” warned Blaise. Harry nodded in understanding. 

“It’s an invisibility cloak,” said Blaise, a look of awe on his face. “Well, don’t just hold it Potter, put it on.”

Harry threw the Cloak around his shoulders and Blaise gave an uncharacteristic shriek. 

“Look down!” he exclaimed. 

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the Cloak over his   
head and his reflection vanished completely. 

“There’s a note!” said Blaise suddenly. “A note fell out when you went to the mirror.”

Harry pulled off the Cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: 

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. 

A Very Merry Christmas to you

 

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note while Blaise was admiring the Cloak. 

“You’re lucky, Potter,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing,” said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the Cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before he could say or think anything else the dormitory door was flung open and in walked Millicent. Harry chucked the cloak out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet. 

“Happy Christmas,” she greeted. “I liked my new broach Zabini, steal it from your mother?”

Blaise laughed. “She has enough of them, but that one suited your eyes.”

“Free Christmas presents make you cheap, you know,” she told him though she clearly wasn’t that upset about it. 

Turning to Harry, “And thanks for the bracelet, Potter. I was surprised to see you had that much taste. Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” 

Harry nodded, Slytherins. 

“Yeah, no worries, I love what I did get though,” Harry assured her pointedly. 

 

Since there were so few students there for the Christmas Hols everyone opted to sit together. Percy, Ron’s brother, was ushered over by Fred and George to where they were all sitting though he tried to sneak over to the prefect area. Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. So much delicious food, and there were also stacks of wizard crackers spread along every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn’t just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat and several live, white mice.

Up at the high table, the Professors were all having a grand old time. Professor Dumbledore had swapped his hat for a flowered bonnet and was chatting merrily with Professor Flitwick. 

Harry, the Weasley’s Millicent and Blaise all spent a happy afternoon together having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. After bribing Millicent and Blaise with a peak into the Gryffindor common room the group spent time getting warm by the fire. Harry thought he had finally lost it because the time the three of them returned to the dungeons he was almost grateful for the chill down there. Gryffindor tower had just been too hot for him. 

It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it. 

Blaise wore out from leading quite the charge against a band of Weasley’s during the snowball fight had quickly fallen asleep as soon as he’d drawn his curtains. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed, and pulled the cloak from under it. 

His father’s….. this had been his father’s. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said. He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the Cloak around   
himself. Looking own at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling. 

Use it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide awake. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him. What about Blaise? Should Harry wake him? 

No, this first time, with his father’s cloak, no, he wanted to do this alone. He crept out of the dorm room, and left the dungeons behind him. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been through nearly every inch of the library,   
but one. The Restricted Section. 

With this, he’d be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp on his way along the rows of books. It floated along, seemingly, in thin air.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Harry stepped carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, holding up his lamp to read the titles. 

They didn’t tell him much, but a large, black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, it fell open. 

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence – the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and one, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and dropped his lamp, it   
went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside--- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch’s pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch’s outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book still shrieking loudly.

He stopped when he heard Filch’s voice. 

“You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody’s been in the library – Restricted Section.” To his horror, it was Snape who replied, “The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be far, we’ll catch them.” 

Harry backed against the wall, knowing that they couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t knock into him. They walked straight past him, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in. 

It looked like an unused classroom. He could see the dark shapes of desks and chairs, but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone   
had put it there to keep it out of the way. 

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oy ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Harry moved closer to the mirror, forgetting Filch and Snape. He stepped in front of it, but couldn’t see his reflection. 

Turning away, then back he had to clasp his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed—for he had seen not   
only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him. 

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror. 

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder—but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? He looked in   
the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he’d touch her, their reflections were as close together, but he felt only air—she and the others existed only in the mirror. 

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green, exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying, crying and smiling at the same time. The tall, thin, black haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry’s did. 

“Mom?” he whispered. “Dad?”

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, other people, some looked like him, some didn’t, but their eyes were all full of love. Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. 

His family smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness. 

How long he stood there, he didn’t know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn’t stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his   
eyes away from his mother’s face, whispered, “I’ll come back,” and hurried from the room. 

Harry couldn’t eat the next day. 

He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn’t seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape   
stole it, really? 

He was going to see his parents. 

“Are you all right?” asked Blaise. “You look odder than normal, Potter.”

“I’m fine, Zabini,” he assured him, not noticing the skeptical look the dark skinned boy gave him in return. 

 

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. Thankfully, he had remember the steps he took getting back to the dorm last night so he was able to retrace his steps. 

He pushed open the door. Harry dropped the Cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror. 

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. It was just like it was yesterday. His mother and father standing behind him smiling, the rest of his family looking at him like they were happy to see him. Then someone else stepped into frame. 

“What is this?” Blaise asked. 

Harry turned. “None of your business, Zabini. What are you even doing here?” Harry tried to move in front of the mirror. Desperate to hide the evidence of his family from Blaise’s view, but being taller than he was, there was no   
way Blaise could miss them. 

Blaise looked in the mirror eyes blown. Was he that surprised to see Harry’s parents? He could hear the other boy breathing before Blaise spoke with a stuttering voice. 

“Harry,” 

It was one of the first times Blaise had ever called him by his given name. 

“Do you see them?” Harry asked, suddenly curious now that his secret was out. 

“I see it, do you?” He sounded desperate, but didn’t take his eyes from the mirror. 

“My parents, they’re here Blaise,” said Harry excitedly.

Blaise looked at him then, forcibly turning his head away from the mirror. “Your parents?” he asked Harry, voice weak. The calm, stoic face and personality that the Slytherin boy was known for slowly started to come back as he gazed at Harry. 

“You see your parents?”

“Don’t you?” asked Harry. “They’re right there.” Harry pointed to the mirror, taking Blaise’s spot in front of the mirror. 

“Get away from there!” Blaise pulled him back. “There’s something wrong with it.”

“Nonsense, you’re just trying to keep it for yourself,” barked Harry. 

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn’t realized how loudly they had been talking. 

“Quick!” shouted Harry, getting under his cloak and making room for Blaise to follow him. 

Harry threw the cloak over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Blaise and Harry stood perfectly still until after not seeing anything she turned and left. 

“This isn’t safe—she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on,” said Blaise, pulling Harry out of the room. 

 

The snow still hadn’t melted the next morning. 

“Want to play chess, Harry?” said Millicent. 

“No.” 

“Do you want to go visit Hagrid?” asked Blaise. 

“No… I’m fine.” 

Blaise gave him a look. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Why not?”

Blaise leaned in so no one could hear him. 

“There was something wrong with that thing, besides if Filch or Mrs. Norris find you they’ll take you straight to Snape.”

Harry almost laughed. 

“I’m not afraid of Snape. Thanks for your touching concern, Blaise, but I think I can handle it.”

Blaise huffed, but left it alone, getting up from his seat to take Millie up on her offer of chess. 

But Harry didn’t mind. He had just one thought in his head, which was getting back in front of the mirror, and no one was going to stop him. 

 

That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn’t meet anyone. 

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his relatives smiling happily. Harry sank down on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying all night if he wanted too. Nothing at all. 

Except---

“So—back again Harry?”

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to   
the mirror he hadn’t noticed him. 

“I—I didn’t see you, sir.”

“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling. Out of bed after curfew, roaming the hills, in a room he sure wasn’t supposed to be in, Harry knew that he could be in a load of trouble, but the kindly headmaster didn’t seem to be concerned about any of those things. 

“So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor beside Harry. “you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“The Mirror of Erised, sir?”

“Ah, you didn’t know it’s name, but I’m sure by now you have figured out what it does?”

“It—well—it shows me my family—“

“Yes, but it showed Mr. Zabini something else?”

“Yeah, he didn’t see them, but they were standing right there in front of him, but how…”

“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” said Dumbledore gently, “Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?”

Harry shook his head, not wanting to give the wrong answer, and not wanting his to be discounted either. 

“Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?”

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, recognition dawning. “It shows us what we want…..whatever we want….”

“Yes and no,” said Dumblefore quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. I imagine, Mr.   
Zabini sees something similar, but that is for him to say.”

“You don’t know?” Harry asked. 

“No, Harry, every person who gazes into this mirror will see something different. We hardly bother to see what is other than what is right in front of us. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been   
driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.”

“The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across t, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don’t you pull that admirable Cloak back on and get off to bed.”

Harry stood up and turned to the door.

“Professor, if everyone sees something different then what do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.”

Harry stared. 

“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

He was lying. Harry was sure, but he knew it had been a personal question. Though as he moved past the others bed back in his dormitory and ignored Blaise’s pointedly ignoring him Harry thought that maybe he hadn’t been   
lying to him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, if you're reading this, I have an idea.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter, I am just a fan. Unbeta'd. Thank you for reading.

Dumbledore hadn’t convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror again, but when Blaise had given him that look and had asked him the next night if he planned to go “gallivanting about the castle again” to please be more respectful of certain people who needed their beauty sleep Harry had said no, and he had meant it. The cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk, and Harry wished that he could forget about what he’d seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn’t. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter. 

He told Blaise about his run in with Dumbledore, if only to fix the little rift that had blossomed between the two of them over the mirror. Blaise seemed content if skeptical of Harry’s admission about what Dumbledore had said he had seen in the mirror.

Blaise had been there when Snape had tried to buck him off his broom, and he hadn’t told anyone about the cloak. And Harry didn’t want to lose him as a friend, and was relieved when after a while things seemed to go back to normal. He wasn’t as outspoken or as brash as Millicent, but he was beginning to open up to him despite Malfoy and his crew still bent on either ignoring or teasing Harry at every available opportunity. 

“So, instead of doing something actually productive you have been traipsing around the castle past curfew,” scolded Hermione. 

Millicent had walked with Harry to the Lion’s Den if only to listen to Hermione scold him like she did. 

Hermione opened her mouth to do just that when Neville toppled into the room, his legs stuck together by what they recognized as the Leg-Locker Curse. Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville’s legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. 

“What happened?” Hermione asked him. 

“Malfoy,” said Neville shakily. “I met him outside the library. He said he’d been looking for someone to practice that on.”

“Go to Professor McGonagall!” Hermione urged Neville. “Report him!”

Neville shook his head. 

“I don’t want more trouble,” he mumbled. 

“You’ve got to stand up to him, Neville,” said Ron. “Malfoys used to walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down and take it.”

“There’s no need to tell me I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy’s already done that,” Neville choked out. 

“You were brave enough to head out with me to that duel,” said Harry. 

“That never happened,” Neville countered quickly. 

“Yeah, but you were Gryffindor enough to do it in the first place.” Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his Chocolate Frogs, handing it to Neville. 

“You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” Harry said. “The Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor for a reason. You belong Neville, you’ll see.”

Neville’s lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. 

“Thanks, Harry…I think I’ll go to bed….D’you want the card, you collect them, don’t you?”

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card. 

“Dumbledore again…..He was the first one I ever…”

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then looked up at his friends. 

“I’ve found him,” he whispered. “I’ve found Flamel. I told you I’d read that name somewhere before. I read it on the train to Hogwarts. Listed: Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard   
Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.”

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn’t looked so excited since they got their first piece of homework. 

“Stay there,” she said and she sprinted up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories Millie right on her heels. Harry and Ron barley have time to exchange a mystified look before the pair are heading back down the stairs, 

Hermione with an enormous book tucked under her arm. 

“I never thought to look in here,” she whispered excitedly. “I checked this out from the library weeks ago.”

“And you failed to mention it to us,” Millicent said even as she began flicking frantically through the pages of the book alongside Hermione. 

“I knew it. I knew it.” She practically sing-songed. 

“Are we allowed to speak yet?” said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him. 

“Nicolas Flamel,” she whispered dramatically, “is the only known maker of the Sorcerer’s Stone!”

“The what?” said Harry and Ron. 

“Really, Potter?” Millicent asked. “Have you picked up any book since you’ve been here that wasn’t a Quidditch magazine?”

Hermione passed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read. 

“Fluffy,” said Ron after reading the passage. 

“A stone that makes gold and stops you from dying!” said Harry, “No wonder Snape’s after it. Anyone would want it.” 

It was only the next day in Defense while Ron and Harry were discussing what they would do if they had a stone like that when Harry remembered the upcoming match. He may not be playing yet, but that didn’t mean   
that he wasn’t excited. Let Snape try and pull something. Harry would be ready. 

In the meantime, Harry had to talk to Malfoy. 

It was rare that it was ever just the two of them in the dorm, but with careful use of both his cloak and some Slytherin ingenuity, Harry had managed to get Malfoy alone without Crabbe and Goyle. He had to do something about Malfoy’s teasing. 

“Where is that blasted book?” he heard Malfoy shout as Harry walked out of the bathroom. He jumped when Harry entered the room. 

“Oi, Potter, I didn’t realize anyone else was here.” Harry nodded. “It’s not important anyway I was just leaving, forget the book. Snape will loan me one, I’m sure.”

“Wait just a moment, Malfoy, I want to talk about Longbottom.”

“Ready to propose are you?” Malfoy quipped. “No need to ask my permission.”

“You know what I want to talk about. I need you to lay off of him.”

Malfoy laughed cruelly. “And why would I do that?”

Harry moved closer to the Malfoy heir. “Because it’s not fair, and if you’re going to pick on someone it should be someone who’s a match for you.” 

“And you think that’s you, Potter?” 

Malfoy posed close to the door. Then smiled. Harry was taken back. 

“It’s not too late, you know?”

“For what?” asked Harry. 

“For us,” said Malfoy. “We can be…uh….friends.”

“Like Crabbe and Goyle? Sorry, but I’d rather not be another one of your minions.”

Malfoy sighed. 

“No, not like them. The Potters were a great family, purebloods and wealthy. We would have been friends in another life.”

“Are you an arrogant brat in that one as well?”

“Watch it, Potter. I’m giving you a chance to trade up, Longbottom and Weasley for some real friends, friends that will actually be able to help you in the future. Do you think Millicent or Blaise will stand with you when the going   
gets tough? Millicent has the family name, but I’ve got the power, and Zabini goes wherever he thinks he’ll find the most advantage.” 

“That’s not true,” said Harry immediately. “Blaise is more loyal than you think.”

“Last chance, Potter, I won’t offer you my hand again.”

“He won’t need it,” Blaise said from the doorway.

“Aw, Zabini, welcome to the party,” Malfoy said not the least fazed that he had just be caught out. 

“And here I thought you loved me, Draco.”

Malfoy didn’t look the least ashamed. 

“You know the rules Blaisey, Oderint dum metuant.” 

Blaise laughed, then did the most unexpected thing. He clasped Malfoy on the shoulder then shook his head stepping in front of Harry. 

“Let them hate so long as they fear. See, Potter’s too stupid to hate even more so to fear.”

“Is that why he chose you as a friend?” Malfoy asked, but he’s already making his way to the door. 

Blaise didn’t answer him just turned toward Harry and smiled. “And leave off Longbottom,” Blaise said, stopping Malfoy before he got to the door. 

“Picking up all sorts now aren’t you Zabini?” 

Blaise laughed again. Whatever Slytherin chess match this was Harry could recognize easily that he was out of his depth. 

“Yes, I am Malfoy. So, I’d take Potters advice and pick on someone else.” 

Malfoy got a curt nod at the door, and left Zabini and Harry in the room. 

“That’s it?” Harry asked when Malfoy was out of the room. “You’re just going to let him get away with saying all that stuff?”

“He didn’t mean it,” Blaise said easily. “He was just trying to shock you Potter. Draco and I have been friends since we were children. We all have really, and believe it or not that was my warning not your invitation.”

“He knew you were at the door?”

“Yes,” Blaise nodded. “Draco knew you were never going to accept his friendship, but he didn’t know where I stood about you.”

Harry picked up his bag, ready to head to class. 

“And where do you stand?” asked Harry. 

“Honestly,” Blaise smiled. That smile that seemed to stop nearly everyone in their tracks boys and girls. “Honestly, I didn’t know until you said what you said. That I was more loyal than he thinks.”

“You are,” said Harry easily. 

Blaise laughed self-deprecatingly. “I’m really not, Potter, but since I have officially sided with you it seems that we need to continue having you think that.”

The two boys moved toward the door. “Are you at least sorry you called me stupid?” Harry asked the dark skinned boy. 

“After what I’ve learned about you Potter, absolutely not.” 

The two boys laughed as they made their way out of the common room and to Snape’s class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, if you're reading this, I have an idea. Tweet me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just a fan. Unbeta'd. Thanks for reading.

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they’d thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn’t; look as though he’d cracked yet. 

Every time they passed the third floor corridor they would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still snoring soundly. Snape was still sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. All of them made an effort to be kinder to the stuttering Professor Quirrell, anything to boost his morale. 

Meanwhile, first year exams were fast approaching and even Blaise was finding himself in the library more than usual. Harry walked with him if only to alieve himself of Millicent and Hermione’s nagging. 

Harry, who was busy looking up “Dittany” in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn’t look up until he heard Ron say, “Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?”

Hagrid shuffled into view, looking very out of place in Madam Pince’s library in his moleskin overcoat. 

“Just lookin’,” he said, in a shift voice that got their interest at once. “An’ what’re you lot up ter?” He looked suddenly suspicious. “Yer nor still lookin’ fer Flamel, are yeh?” 

“Oh, we found out who he is ages ago,” said Ron impressively. “That and the Sorcerer’s….”

“Shhhhh!” Hagrid and Millicent hushed Ron together. 

“Don’ go shoutin’ about it, what’s the matter with yeh?”

“Subtle as a Ridgeback,” said Millicient. 

Harry straightened. “There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact, about what’s guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy,---“

“SHHHH,” said Hagrid again. Harry grinned at the reaction he wanted. “Listen---come an’ see me later. I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it here, students are supposed to know.   
They’ll think I’ve told yeh---“

“We’ll see you later, then,” said Harry as Hagrid shuffled off. 

Millicent looked to Harry. “Did you see that thing behind his back?” she asked. Harry nodded. 

“I wonder what it was?” Hermione said thoughtfully. 

“Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?”

“I’m going to see what section he was in,” said Ron, who’d had enough of working. He came back with a pile of books and a wide smile. 

“Dragons!” he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at this one, From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide. 

“Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,” said Harry. 

“But it’s against our laws,” said Millicent. Ron shook his head like this was common knowledge. 

“Dragon keeping has been illegal for hundreds of years,” said Ron. “You can’t tame them. You should see some of the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania. That’s where the Ministry tries to relocate the wild ones   
so the muggles won’t catch word.” 

“So what on Earth is Hagrid up to?” said Hermione. 

It was stifling hot inside of Hagrid’s hut. The curtains were drawn, the fire blazing. It was so hot even Ron refused Hagrid’s offer of tea and sandwiches. 

“So—yeh wanted to ask me something?” 

“Yes,” said Harry. There was no point in beating around the bush, “We need to know what’s guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone apart from Fluffy. What else is down there?” 

Hagrid frowned at him. 

“Of course I can’t,” he said. “Number one, I don’t’ know meself. Two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’t tell if yeh if I could. That Stone is highly sought, it was nearly stolen out of Gringotts which is why it’s here now.” 

“Hagrid,” said Harry. “You know everything that goes around here. Dumbledore trusts you, we just want to know who else was tasked with guarding the Stone so we’re sure it’s in good hands.” 

They all smiled at him reassuringly. 

Hagrid’s beard twitched, and they could tell he was smiling. 

“Well, I don’ s’pose it could hurt to tell you that…let’s see he borrowed Fluffy from me…., then some o’ the teachers did enchantments…Professor Sprout---Professor Flitwick---Professor McGonagall---Professor   
Quirriell, and Dumbeldore himself did something of course….” He ticked their names off on his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah, and Professor Snape.” 

“Snape?”

“Yesh—yer still on abou’ that, are yeh? Look Snape helped protect the Stone, now, he ain’ abou’ to steal it.” 

Harry knew they were all thinking the same thing. If Snape had a hand in protecting the Stone then he must know about the other teacher’s enchantments, and the only thing keeping him out now was Fluffy and Quirrell’s   
spell.” 

“You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you Hagrid, and you wouldn’t tell anyone would you? Not even one of the teachers?” said Harry anxiously. 

“Just me and Dumbledore,” said Hagrid proudly. 

“We’ll that’s something,” Harry muttered to the others. 

Ron was stifling. “Care to open a window there Hagrid? I’m boiling.” 

“Can’t, Ron, sorry,” said Hagrid, glancing at the fire. Harry looked at it, too. 

“Hagrid—what’s that?” asked Harry, but he already knew. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg. 

“Ah,” said Hagrid, fiddling with the end of his beard. “That’s ah….” 

“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a better look. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.” 

“Won it,” said Hagird. “ in a card game, the fellow didn’t seem to put out though. He acted like he wanted to get rid of it.” 

“Because it’s illegal,” Millicent chimed in even as Hermione was explaining to Hagrid exactly why he wouldn’t want to raise a dragon in his wooden hut. But Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was humming merrily, as he stoked   
the fire. 

So now they had a few things to worry about. Snape. Exams. And an illegal dragon egg. 

“Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life,” Ron sighed, finishing just one sheet of all the extra homework they had been given. 

Millicent laughed. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last time you ask yourself that question Weasley.” 

When the owls swooped down, Harry got another letter from Hagrid. Two words on the parchment: It’s hatching. 

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to Hagrid’s, but Hermione wouldn’t hear of it, rushing him off to class. 

When they finally got to Hagrid’s he met them at the door flushed and excited. 

“It’s nearly out.” He ushered them inside like a proud papa. 

They all pulled up chairs and watched until the baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn’t pretty exactly, but when a couple of sparks flew out of it’s nose Hagrid bellowed with pride. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke it’s head, not backing down when it snapped at his fingers, showing it’s fangs. 

“He knows his mama,” said Hagrid proudly. 

“Hagrid?” said Hermione, “how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?”

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face—he leapt to his feet and ran to the window. 

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even from a distance there was no mistaking him. Malfoy had seen the dragon. 

 

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy’s face during the next week made them all very nervous. Harry urged Hagrid to let the dragon go, but Hagrid said he was too little. 

“He won’t make it out there on his own yet. I have to keep Norbert safe.”

Harry had to talk to Malfoy. 

Approaching him in between classes when the Slytherins had a break was probably his best option. Blaise lurked around the hall as Harry waited to grab Malfoy. 

He heard Crabbe and Goyle’s lumbering steps before he heard Malfoy’s nasally voice. Stepping out into the hall in front of them with a swirl of robes that would have made Snape jealous. 

“Malfoy,” addressed Harry, ignoring his two companions as Blaise stuck to his other side. 

“Oi, Potter, nice to see you. Here, I thought we had officially lost you to the Gryffindors.” He looked him up and down. “Pity.” 

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. If living with Malfoy had taught him one thing it was that Malfoy’s act was about eighty-five percent hot air. 

“Do get on with it Potter, you have that constipated look you get when you’re confused about what comes next in potions.”

Malfoy brushed the edge of his robes back, not bothering to look at Harry. 

“I want to talk about the other day,” said Harry. “About Herbology.”

Malfoy tutted. 

“Having trouble in that class as well, Potter? Though don’t feel too bad, with the amount of time you spend with the Weasel at least you’ll excel in Magical Creatures. Maybe that great oaf Hagrid could give you a hand even….” 

Harry tensed. 

Then he realized.

Malfoy was dancing around the issue and not in a “I know something that you don’t know”, but in a way that said maybe he hadn’t shared the full extent of what he saw with anyone including the two goons standing   
behind him. 

Harry knew Malfoy wasn’t stupid, but he also knew he wasn’t going to keep this to himself. Malfoy was going to tell, he was just going to tell someone who had more authority to get Hagrid in trouble. 

Blaise merely stood by his side, but it was comforting to know that if Malfoy started throwing hexes that he could at least count on Blaise to have his back. It was a quiet sort of comfort, not at all like Ron. Ron would just cut to the chase and pound Malfoy a new nose, Fred and George too. But…

“See you around Malfoy,” said Harry. “It was great talking to you, but Blaise and I have got to get to class.” 

Blaise looked confused, but as Harry took off past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle he followed without question only stopping him when they got to the Charms classroom. 

“What was that?” 

Harry smiled at a frightened looking Blaise. Harry clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “That Blaise was the best idea Malfoy’s ever had.”

 

 

It was only the three of them when Saturday night came around. Millicent wanted to go, but when Harry told her what her duties would be she had insisted that Granger could have this one. Ron had gotten a response from his brother, and Malfoy’s own antagonism had ensured that he too knew what the plan was. Hermione tried to console a sobbing Hagrid, but when Hagrid started calling the dragon by it’s new name and calling himself his mommy. Hermione gave Harry a look and he knew it was too late, the dragon already had a name.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn’t been so worried about what they had do to. It was dark when they arrived at Hagrid’s hut. The trio were a bit late having to move around Peeve’s who was hanging around the entrance hall before they could leave. 

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate. 

“He’s got losts o’ rats an’ some brandy fer the journey,” said Hagrid in a muffled voice. “An’ I’ve packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely.” 

“Bye, bye,” Norbert. “Mummy will never forget you!”

Harry paused the trio as they approached the meeting point. He had been expecting something, but it surely wasn’t this. Professor McGonagall in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear. 

“Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you—“

“You don’t understand, Professor,” called Draco Malfoy. “Harry Potter’s coming—he’s got a dragon!”

“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on—I’ll see what Professor Snape has to say about you.”

Getting to the top of the spiral staircase was easy compared to stifling their laughter at Malfoy being manhandled by Professor McGonagall.

Hermione shook the cloak off with a bit of a jig. 

“Malfoy’s got detention! I could sing!” 

“Don’t,” Harry advised her.

Charlie’s friends were a cheery lot. They showed the group of them some the harness they had rigged, and when they were ready to leave they shook hands with the others and thanked them very much. They watched Norbert fly   
away into the night sky. 

No more dragon, no more detention, they slipped down the staircase and couldn’t have felt happier. What could spoil it?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch’s face loomed suddenly out of the darkness. 

“Well, well, well,” he whispered. “we are in trouble.”

As smart as they were, they had done something incredibly stupid. They had left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower. 

 

Things couldn’t have been worse. 

Filch marched them straight to Professor McGonagall who was still dealing with Malfoy. Out of bed, alone at the tallest astronomy tower, which was way out of bounds, plus the invisibility cloak and a dragon, yeah, they might as   
well be packing their bags already. 

Had Harry thought that things couldn’t have been worse? He was wrong because when Professor McGonagall came out of her office, she was leading Neville. 

“Harry,” Neville burst out, the moment he saw the others. “I was trying to find you to warn you. I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag—“

Harry shook his head violently to tell Neville to shut up, but Professor McGonagall had already seen. 

“I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the tower. It’s one in the morning, explain yourselves.” 

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a question. Harry started with an excuse, but McGonagall put her hand up. 

“I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s been going on,” she said. “You fed Draco Malfoy some cock and bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I’ve already caught him. I suppose you think   
it’s funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?” 

Harry caught Neville’s eye and tried to tell him without words that it wasn’t true. Neville may not feel like a true Gryffindor, but he had showed more bravery in the past weeks then Harry ever thought possible. He was   
ready to be his second in an underage wizard’s duel, and had snuck out of bed to warn Harry and the others that Malfoy as trying to pull something and Harry didn’t want him to think he saw him as anything other than a great friend. 

“I’m disgusted,” said Professor McGonagall. “Four students out of bed in one night. I’ve never hardly heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. All three of you will be given detention, and points taken from your perspective houses. 

Any Slytherins who had been on his side since the match had since turned on him, even Malfoy hadn’t escaped the stigma of losing them so many house points. The only people in the school who seemed to tolerate Harry and his friends were the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who had enough points now that the race for the House Cup was now between the two of them. 

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn’t have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren’t as well-known, but nobody would speak to them either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. 

At least his mind was busy studying for exams, memorizing the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions, and learning spells by heart. Then, about a week before the exams were set to start. Harry’s new   
resolution not to interfere with anything that didn’t directly concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell’s voice. 

“No—no---not again, please---“

Next, Quirrell came hurling out of the classroom. He was pale and looked as though he had been crying. He strode out of sight; Harry didn’t think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until he could no longer hear his footsteps before he stepped into the empty classroom where a door stood ajar at the end of it. He was halfway toward it before he remembered what he’d promised himself about not meddling. 

Harry would have bet twelve Sorcerers Stone’s that Snape had just left the room through that door. Snape with a new spring in his step and Quirrell close to his last one. 

Harry went back to the library where Millicent, Blasie, and Hermione were testing Neville on his potions knowledge. Harry told them what he’d heard. 

Millicent rolled her eyes. “There’s still Fluffy, though,” said Hermione. 

“Maybe Snape’s found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid,” said Millicent, though Harry wasn’t sure he was making fun of him or not. 

“You need to go to Dumbledore,” said Blaise, suddenly their voice of reason. “That’s what you idiots should have done weeks ago.”

Millie smacked him on the back of the head with her book. “No one asked you, Zabini,” 

“Besides, we’ve got no proof,” said Harry. “Quirrell’s too scared to back us up. Snape’s only got to say he doesn’t know anything about how the troll got into the castle and they’ll believe him. He’s the Professor we’re the students,   
simple as that.”

Blaise spoke up. “The whole world knows that you hate him, they’ll think you’re just making it up to get him fired.”

“And how are you going to explain how you know about these things in the first place? As far as you’re supposed to know there is no Stone or Fluffy or any of it,” said Millicent. 

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn’t. 

“If we just do a bit of poking around—“

“No,” said Harry flatly. “we’ve done enough poking around.” 

He pulled a book toward him and pretended to read. 

 

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Neville at breakfast. They were all the same. Harry even saw Malfoy get one. 

Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

Professor McGonagall

At eleven sharp, Harry met the others and Malfoy at the entrance with an impatient looking Mr. Filch. “Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. 

“I’ll bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he said, leering at them. “Hard work and pain,” he muttered. “It’s about time they bring back the old punishments…hanging by your wrists in my office, would keep you out of trouble all right. Now, don’t go thinking about running off or it’ll be worst for you do.”

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry wondered what their punishment was going to be. It had to be something really horrible or else Filch wouldn’t sound so excited. But, he was leading them towards Hagrid’s hut. 

“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started.”

Harry’s heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn’t be so bad. His relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy—it’s into the forest with you.”

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. 

“The forest?” he repeated, and he didn’t sound quite as cool as usual. “We can’t go in there at night, there’s all sorts in there, werewolves, I heard.” 

Neville fought the urge to clutch Harry’s robe as he made a sort of choking noise. Hagrid came out of his hut, striding toward them in the dark, Fang at his heels. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of   
arrows hung over his shoulder. 

Harry heard Filch and Hagrid squabble a bit before Filch stalked off back toward the castle. “I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch. “For what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away into the darkness. 

Malfoy turned to Hagrid. 

“I’m not going into the forest,” he said, and Harry felt calmer at the hint of panic in his voice. 

“Yeh are if you want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

“But this is servant’s stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be copying lines or something,” 

Hermione nodded alongside Draco. It was what Harry thought they’d be doing as well, but it was this, Hagrid said, or go back to the castle and pack their bags. “If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get   
back off ter the castle an’ pack.”

Malfoy didn’t move. “But…”, he started. 

“Drop it Malfoy,” said Harry. “Let’s just get his over with.” 

Malfoy met his gaze, still furious, but when Harry didn’t look away he dropped his eyes. 

“Right then,” said Hagrid, “Now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.” 

He led them to the edge of the forest. 

“see that there, that silvery stuff shinin’ on the ground? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the   
poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“Hagrid,” said Harry, the same time Malfoy made to say something. Malfoy backed down sensing Harry was thinking the same thing as he was. “What if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?”

“There’s nothing that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” said Hagrid. “An’ make sure to keep to the path. Now, we’re gonna spilt yeh into two parties so we can follow the trail in its different directions.”

“I want Fang,” said Malfoy, quickly, looking at Fang’s long teeth.

“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid. Harry took one look at Neville and knew that if Malfoy and Neville were to go into the woods together it would be nothing but disaster, and if it weren’t for Harry he knew   
Neville wouldn’t be in this spot in the first place. 

“I’ll go with Malfoy,” said Harry. 

“Are yeh sure?” asked Hagrid. Harry nodded, avoiding Malfoy’s gaze until they all headed off into the Forbidden Forest. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry followed the blood and he thought it was getting thicker as they went. There were splashes on the root of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, though the tangled branches of an ancient oak. 

“Look---“ he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy. 

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. Harry had taken one step closer to it when a slithering sound made him freeze. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered….Then, out of the shoulders, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn and started to drink its blood. 

“AAAAAAARGH!”

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted---so did Fang. The hooded figure railed its head up and looked straight at Harry, unicorn blood all down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry, but Harry’s feet were   
stuck with fear. 

Then a pain like he’d never felt before pierced his head, as though his scar was on fire. He stumbled back, blinded. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure. 

The pain in Harry’s head was so bad he fell to his knees. When he looked back, the figure was gone, but in its place was a centaur. 

“Are you all right?” said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet. 

“Yes-----thank you----what was that?” What are you? Harry wondered. 

The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry before his eyes settled on the scar on Harry’s forehead 

“You are the Potter boy?” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time—especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.”

“My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowed himself on to his front legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back. There was suddenly the sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. More centaurs   
burst into the clearing. 

“Firenze!” one thundered. “What are you going? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?” 

“Bane, this is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better.”

“What have you been telling him?” growled Bane. Another pawed at the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best,” he said in a gloomy voice. 

“For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on. 

“Do you not see that unicorn?” Firenze bellowed at Bane. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with   
humans alongside me if I must.” 

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the forest, leaving the others behind them. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought   
Firenze didn’t want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a dense pack of trees when Firenze stopped. 

“Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

“No,” said Harry, startled by the odd question. “We’ve only used the horn and tail in Potions.

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from   
death, but at a terrible prize. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

“But who’d be that desperate?” he wondered. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Frienze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power—something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do   
you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?” 

The Elixir of Life, the Sorcerer’s Stone, Harry thought, but wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but Bane seemed to read his mind. 

“And can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?” 

Hagrid’s voice came back to him clear as if he were standing in front of him. “Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.”

“Do you mean,” Harry croaked. “that was Vol…”

“Harry? Harry, are you all right?”

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her. 

“I’m fine,” said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. “The unicorn’s dead, it’s in the clearing back there.”

“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.”

Harry slid off his back. 

“Good luck, Harry Potter,” said Firenze. “Be safe.”

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him. After Hagrid was done looking at the unicorn, he led Harry and Hermione over to where Neville, Malfoy, and Fang were   
waiting. Malfoy said nothing even as he begrudgingly gave up Fang and stalked back toward the castle. 

Harry gave Hermione a look that said he would tell her everything later before he and Malfoy walked back to the dormitory together. Draco gave the password, nearly scampering when he heard the familiar movement of bricks. Harry walked quickly to the dormitory. He needed a shower, and the comfort of his bed. 

Blaise was up when they came back. 

“Waiting up to give us a goodnight kiss, Blaise?” Draco asked. 

“Only in your dreams, Malfoy.” 

The iridescent light from the Black Lake glowed green. “I pulled your curtains, Potter. I know how modest you are,” said Blaise. 

Harry shot Blaise an odd look. He would have to tell him and Millie what happened as well, but that would have to wait. He pulled the curtains under his bed, and saw the reason Zabini would give up his beauty sleep. 

Underneath his sheets, Harry found his invisibility cloak neatly folded there. There was a note punned to it. 

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, I have an idea, call me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes are mine, timeline, spelling, etc.... I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just a fan.

Exams came, but Harry was sure that he had done as good as can be expected. Millie was confident she aced them, while Blaise simply shrugged his shoulders. Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry had mentioned that he was having trouble sleeping, but the truth was that Harry had kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it. 

Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen what Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn’t have the constant reminder of a scar on their foreheads, but no one seemed as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of Voldemort scared them, but they had a reprieve when they were awake. One, that since the dreams started, Harry didn’t have. 

Their very last exam was History of Magic. After Binns rolled up their parchments Millie suggested that he and Blaise meet Hermione, Ron, and Neville by the lake. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. Flint and Wood were standing nearby with their respective groups of fifth years. Fresh out of taking their exams, the lot of them looked bone weary but mostly pleased. 

“No more studying,” Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. He reached up to high five Blaise as they approached. Blaise did so, clearly on a high from finishing the last of their tests. They would have one week until they knew their results. 

“Bugger up,” Millie said, gesturing for Hermione to make some room for her on the “good grass”. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Blaise asked, noticing Harry rubbing at his forehead. 

“I wish I knew what this means!” he burst out angrily. “My scar keeps hurting—it’s happened before, but never as often as this.”

“Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested. 

“I’m not ill,” said Harry. “I think it’s a warning….it means danger’s coming.”

“Very ominous, Potter,” said Blaise. 

Ron didn’t join the teasing, it was too hot. 

“Harry, relax, Hermione’s right, the Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s around. Anyway, we’ve never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy.”

“Yeah, you saw his leg,” said Hermione. “It nearly ripped his leg off, he’s not going to try it again in a hurry. 

“Yeah,” said Millie. “And Draco here will ask Weasley to marry him before Hagrid would let Dumbledore down.”

Ron made a face. “Like any of my family would have him.”

Harry looked up and unsettling feeling in his gut. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. They were right,   
Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy…never…but---

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” said Ron sleepily. 

“I’ve just thought of something,” said Harry. He had turned white. “We’ve got to go and see Hagrid.”

“Harry,” said Millie. 

“Now.., we have to go now. Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? Now, I’m new to magic, but I highly   
doubt loads of people just walk around with eggs in their pockets. Why didn’t I see it before? We have to go.”

Blaise stayed on his butt as the rest of the group got to their feet. 

“Really, Zabini,” Millie scolded. 

Zabini tutted. 

“Yes,” he said. “By all means let’s all waltz down to Hagrid’s hut with all of these people watching and Potter raving like a mad man. That won’t attract any attention will it?”

Blaise was right. 

“Well, I’m going,” Millie said instantly. “and it would make sense for Granger to go, because Blaise and Neville don’t really know Hagrid.” 

“Well, why can’t I go,” asked Ron. Millie settled him back into the grass as Hermione stood to stand by Harry. 

“Because your red hair will draw to much attention, and I don’t like you.” 

“Watch it, Bulstrode,” said Ron, face going red. 

“She’s right,” Harry said. “Not about your hair,” Harry said quickly when Ron looked offended. 

“We need to go, and it’ll just look like we’re all going to grab some tea after the exams. Everyone knows we’ve all been studying together,” reasoned Harry. 

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl. 

“Hullo,” he said, smiling. “Finished yer exams? Got time for a drink?”

“We’re in a little hurry, Hagrid,” said Millie. 

“I have something to ask you,” said Harry. “Hagrid, I’ve got to ask you something. You now that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?”

“Dunno,” said Hagrid casually. “he wouldn’t take his cloak off.” He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. 

“It’s not that unusual, plenty of odds one at the Hog’s Head. Might’ve been a dragon dealer, but I never saw his face, he kept his hood up.” 

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. 

“He askd what I did…..what kind of creatures I cared for…..I can’ remember too well…….I always wanted a dragon…..we played cards….he mentioned the dragon egg….but he had to be sure I could handle it, he didn’t want it ter   
go ter any old home….So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…..”

“And did he -----did he seem interested in Fluffy?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“Well---yeah---how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus’ play him a bi’ of music an’ he’ll go straight ter sleep---.”

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. 

“I shouldn’ta told yeh that!” he blurted out. “Forget I said it! Hey---where’re yeh goin’?” 

Harry, Millie and Hermione speak over each other until they get to the entrance hall. 

“We’ve got to go to Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak—it must’ve been easy once he’d got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore   
believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn’t stop him. Where’s Dumbledore’s office?”

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him. 

“We’ll just have to—“ Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall. 

“What are you three doing inside?”

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books. 

“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione. 

“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. “Why?” 

Harry swallowed—now what?

“It’s urgent,” Millie said, answering her question but avoiding it at the same time. 

“Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she said coldly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic, and flew off for London at once.”

“He’s gone,” said Harry frantically. “Now?”

“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time—“

“It’s about the Sorcerer’s Stone—“

Whatever more Professor McGonagall was going to say halted. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn’t bother to magic them back up. 

“How do you know----“ she spluttered. 

“Professor, someone is trying to steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore now.”

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. 

“Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she said finally. “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.”

“But Professor—“

“Potter, I know what I’m talking about,” she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. “I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.”

But they didn’t. 

“It’s tonight,” said Harry, once Professor McGonagall was out of sight. “Snape’s going through the trapdoor tonight. He’s found out everything he needs, and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that message.   
Dumbledore will find out when he gets there.”

“But what can we….”

Hermione gasped. Harry and Millicent wheeled round. 

Snape was standing there. 

“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly. 

They stared at him. 

“You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this,” he said, with an odd, twisted smile. 

“We were….” Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say. 

“You want to be more careful,” said Snape. “Hanging around like this, people will think you’re up to something. And neither of your houses can stand the loss of points right now, unless we all want to be wearing yellow at the end   
of year feast.”

Harry stood tall. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back. 

“Be warned, Potter…any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure that you are expelled. Slytherin has a reputation to uphold after all. Good day to you.”

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom. 

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned toward the others. 

“Right, here’s what we’re going to do,” he whispered urgently. “One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape… wait outside the staffroom and follow him if leaves it.”

“Hermione better do that,” said Millicent. 

“Why me?”

“That way you can at least be pretending to wait for Flitwick with a question about the exam.”

Harry turned to Millicent. “And we better stay outside the third-floor corridor. Blaise will cover for us if anyone goes to asking questions.”

But that part of the plan didn’t work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper. 

“I suppose you think you’re harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!” she stormed. “Enough of this nonsense, if I hear you’ve come anywhere near here again Slytherin will have no more points left to its name, and   
tell Miss Granger even Gryffindor will suffer. She isn’t here, but don’t think I didn’t see her outside of the staff room. Professor Snape shooed her off as soon as she was finished asking Professor Flitwick her questions.” 

Millicent and Harry turned and went back toward their common room. 

“I’m going out tonight. I’m going to try and get to the Stone first.” 

“You’re mad, Potter!” said Millicent. “After what McGonagall said and Snape? You’ll be expelled, and while part of me would be glad to get rid of you, the other part knows that you’re brilliant.”

“Thanks, Millie,” Harry said sarcastically. 

“I mean it you brat,” she said. 

“If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back. Haven’t you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for   
the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn’t matter, none of this matters, except for getting the Stone. You may be safe here in this house, in your green robes, but what about Hermione and Neville and Ron? What about me? I don’t care if I get caught trying. I may have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to come and get me there instead of here, but at least I tried, because I am never going over to the Dark Side. I’m going through the trapdoor tonight and nothing anyone says is going to stop me!” 

He stopped and looked at Millie. 

“Voldemort killed my parents, remember? I’m not going to let him come back and do it to some other kid if I can help it.”

Millicent looked at the ground. 

“I’ll use the cloak, I won’t get caught.”

“Will it cover two of us?” said Millicent. 

“What?” asked Harry shocked. 

“Two of us, you and me, or did you think I’d let you go on a suicide mission alone? You may have the worst kind of luck and be the most stubborn, dramatic person I have ever met, but I didn’t think you were stupid.   
There is no way I’m letting you go through that door alone.” 

“But if we get caught, you’ll be expelled too.”

Millicent laughed. “My family has been coming to Hogwarts for hundreds of years, our vault in Gringotts is close to the very bottom, and I am brilliant, there’s no way they’d kick me out.” 

“Oh, and Potter,” she said. “Don’t call me Millie.”

After dinner Harry knew he had to put on a show. He would get into bed and pull his curtains then he would sneak out and meet Millie in the common room with the cloak. 

“About time, Potter,” Millicent whispered when she spotted him. 

“Sorry, I had to wait for Goyle to go to sleep. He’s normally out like a light, but it seemed like he was waiting for something tonight.”

They were part way to the door before they heard an extra set of footsteps. 

“Millicent,” a voice called. “What are you doing?” 

It was Goyle. 

“Greg,” she said, motioning for Harry to keep his mouth shut. “I’m just going for a walk, you know, to clear my head.” 

“But,…but you can’t. Don’t you think you two have already lost your share of house points? Slytherin was this close to the cup before you two started hanging out with the Gryffindors.”

“You don’t understand,” said Harry. “this is important.” 

Goyle may not have been at the top of the class, and was known more as Malfoy’s flunky than anything else, but he still had a wand. 

“I won’t let you do it,” he said, using his large frame to look intimidating. 

Millicent laughed. 

“Step off it, Goyle, no one’s going to believe you’re a big bad. Just last summer we were flying around my backyard.” 

“It’s not you, it’s him. He’s the one losing us all these points. He’s the reason that Snape doesn’t favor us anymore, but what does he get? A spot on the Quidditch team. He should be the one that gets punished.”

“No.” Harry yelled at the same time Millicent yelled, “Yes.”

Harry stared at her. 

“Yes, Potter is a prat, but to be fair losing the points was more of a team effort. Regardless, Greg, we’re going through that door, and you’re not going to stop us.”

“Oh yes I will,” Goyle said, pointing his wand up before….

“Petrificus Totalus!” 

Goyle’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board. 

“Good job, Blaisey,” said Millicent as she moved to Goyle’s side to flip him over. His jaws were jammed together so he couldn’t speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror. Blaise moved further into the   
common room. 

“What’ve you done to him?” Harry whispered. 

“It’s the full Body-Bind,” said Blaise. “I’ll explain to him when he’s able to move again, but for now you two have got some time.”

“Thanks, Blaise,” said Harry. He threw the cloak over him and Millicent and the two left the common room. 

Every statue’s shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. After a brief run in with both of the castle’s guards, Millicent pulled him in the direction of Gryffindor   
tower. 

“Where are we going?” he whispered. 

“To get Granger, of course. Do you think we’d hear the end of it if we left her behind?” 

A few minutes later, with Hermione in tow, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor, and the door was already ajar. 

“Well, there you are,” Harry said quietly, “Snape’s already got past Fluffy.”  
Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what they were about to face. 

“If you want to go back, I won’t blame you,” Harry said. “You can take the Cloak, I won’t need it now.”

“Don’t be so self-sacrificing,” said Millicent. She shivered. “It’s too Gryffindor for me.” 

Hermione laughed. “We’re not going anywhere Harry, we’re with you til the end.” 

Harry pushed the door open. 

As the door creaked, all three of the dog’s noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn’t see them. 

“What’s that at its feet?” Hermione whispered. 

“A harp, Snape must have enchanted it,” said Millicent. 

“It must wake up the moment you stop playing,” said Harry. “Well, here goes….”

Millicent took Hagrid’s flute to her lips and blew. It was better than Harry could manage and Fluffy seemed to be appeased. Hermione looked at Millicent quite impressed. 

“Let’s do this smart,” said Harry. “We can open the door from here. Hermione you go first, then I’ll take the flute from Millicent so she can go.”

Millicent shook her head wildly. 

“Do you want to go first?” asked Harry. 

Again she shook her head. 

“She saying she wants to go last that way Fluffy stays asleep.”

“Fine,” said Harry, shaking his head. He opened the door, and Hermione poised herself at the edge. 

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” she chanted. She steeled herself with a look in their direction and dropped into the blackness. 

“Hermione?” Harry called but didn’t get an answer. He had to get down there. “I’ll see you in a second,” he told Millie before dropping down. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down, and….

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as if he was sitting on some sort of plant. 

“Jump, Millie!!” he called as loud as he dared. Wondering if she’d wack him with the flute for using her nickname. Millicent followed right away. She landed, sprawled next to Harry. 

“What is this?” She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. The moment she started to struggle was the moment the plant started to twist, snakelike tendrils pulled around her ankles. All of their legs and hands had   
been bound tightly without their noticing. 

Hermione had managed to free herself from the plants grip even as she watched in horror as Harry and Millicent fought against the plant. 

“Stop moving!” Hermione ordered them. “I know what this is…it’s Devil Snare!”

“Hermione, I can’t breath,” said Millicent as the plant wrapped around her neck. 

“A fire….” Hermione said frantically. “but…..”

“Your wand, Granger…” Millicent mumbled hoarsely. 

“Oh, right,” said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of blue flames at the plant which instantly lost their hold on them enough so that they could pull free. 

“I never did like Herbology,” said Millicent. 

“This way,” said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward. 

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. 

“Do you hear anything?” Harry asked. 

“Sounds like wings…..?”

“There’s light ahead….I can see something moving.”

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side   
of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. 

“Do you think they’ll attack?” said Millicent. They all drew their wands. 

Harry took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms and sprinted toward the other door Hermione and Millicent following him, but the door wouldn’t budge, even with Hermione’s “Alohormora.” 

Harry wanted to bang against the door, do anything to get inside. 

“Look at the birds,” said Millicent. 

Harry stared at the door. “Harry,” said Hermione, tugging on his arm. “Look at the birds,”

Harry turned. 

“They’re not birds,” Harry said suddenly. “They’re keys! Winged keys…. So that must mean…” he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the keys. “yes…look! Broomsticks! We’ve got to catch the key to the   
door.”

Hermione examined the lock. 

“It’ll be big, old-fashioned, maybe silver…” 

“They all look the same,” said Millicent. 

They each seized a broomstick, they could do this together. 

“I don’t fly often,” said Millicent. “Never wanted to break the broom.” 

Harry turned to her. 

“But you and Greg?”

“We’re the same size, Potter. While you and Granger here are stick people, I’m not.” 

Hermione looked shocked. 

“Really, Bulstrode? We’re about to take on a corrupt teacher whose trying to bring back the darkest wizard in our time, and you’re not going to fly with us because Pansy and her minions don’t like you because you’re different.”

Millicent blustered. “I don’t need anyone to like me, I just need respect.”

Harry stared at her. “You’re a witch.”

“What?” asked Millicent. 

“You’re a witch, which makes you different. You’re a brilliant witch, which makes you even more different. And you’re the kind of person who calls people out on their crap and who willingly goes with two kids who don’t know that   
much about magic into a creepy tunnel past a three headed dog and almost get strangled by an evil plant. You are different, but my goodness, Bulstrode, are you brilliant.”

Millicent laughed.

“All right then, Potter,” said Millicent. “Let’s see how good you really are on that thing.”

Hermione smiled at Millicent and pulled her into a hug and the three of them got onto their brooms. 

Harry was the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things that other people didn’t. After a minute’s weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that bad a bent   
wing, like it had already been caught by someone. 

“That one,” he called to the others. “Millicent go for it from above, Hermione get it from that side, and I’ll try to catch it. Right, GO!!!!”

The key didn’t stand a chance. Harry lurched forward and with a nasty crunch pinned the key to the wall. They flew down and Harry ran to the door. He rammed it into the lock and turned…it worked. The moment the   
lock had clicked, the three of them ran for it, through the door. 

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind he black chessman, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them were the white pieces. 

“We have to play our way across the board,” Millicent said. 

“We’re the chess pieces,” said Harry.

Millicent nodded, this was her foray. “Harry, you take the place of that bishop. Hermione you go there instead of that castle.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to be a knight,” said Millicent. 

“You can’t be a knight,” said Harry, looking at all the pieces who had already been demolished. 

“Of course I can. Don’t go getting all misogynistic on me now Potter.”

The chessman seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving space for them to take their spots. 

A white pawn had moved forward two squares and the game had begun. 

Millicent led the game, and they slowly began to move across the board. Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a buddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Millicent   
was vicious, darting around the board taking as many white pieces as black pieces had been lost. 

“We’re nearly there,” she muttered suddenly. “Let me think—let me think…”

The white queen turned her blank face toward her. 

“Yes…” said Millicent softly. “it’s the only way…I’ve got to be taken.”

“NO!” Harry and Hermione shouted. 

“That’s chess!” snapped Millie. “You’ve got to make some sacrifices if you want to win. When I make my move, that’ll leave you free to checkmate the king, Harry.”

Hermione looked at Millicent. 

“I thought you said self-sacrificing was a Gryffindor thing.”

Millicent laughed. 

“Maybe you’re catching Granger. Look, if we don’t hurry Snape will get the stone. There are no alternatives here.”

“Ready?” she called, her face pale but determined. “Now, don’t hang around after you’ve won.” 

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor. Hermione screamed but stayed in her square while the white queen dragged Millie   
to the side of the game board. 

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. 

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry’s feet. They had won. Millicent was still breathing, but it looked as if she had been knocked out. 

The next challenge was Snapes. 

Through the door was a large room with another doorway at the end of it, but as soon as they emerged black flames sprung up keeping them out. They were trapped. 

“Look!” Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over her shoulder as she read it. It was a riddle. 

“Brilliant,” said Hermione. “This isn’t magic…it’s logic…a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizard haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here forever.”

“And so will we,” Harry said. 

“No, look, everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles, three are poisons, two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back. He’s your head of house, what do you know about Snape   
that would give you a sign as to how to get through this.” 

Snape, he didn’t know anything about Snape. He knew he was a hard teacher. He knew he used to favor the Slytherins and still probably did when Harry wasn’t around. He knew he wanted him expelled, but what else? 

He knew that he was intimidating and that he seemed that way to a lot of the kids. He knew that the Slytherins respected him as much as they feared him, and he knew that he relished in what he knew. Snape was   
brilliant. Harry knew that, and Snape knew that, but as much as Snape liked winning he didn’t think highly of things like Quidditch, no, Snape liked knowledge. Unassuming. 

“The smallest bottle will get us through, toward the Stone.”

“There’s only enough there for one of us,” Hermione said. “That’s hardly one swallow.”

They looked at each other. 

“Which one will get you back through the purple flame?”

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line. She knew which one would get him through, she just wanted to see if he did. 

“You drink that,” said Harry. “Go back, get Millie, grab a broom and fly through the trapdoor. Go to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I won’t be a   
match for long.”

“But Harry…what if You-Know-Who’s with him?”

“I was lucky once, right?” said Harry, pointing at his scar. “I’ll get lucky again.”

Hermione’s lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him. Hermione turned and drank the potion. It felt like ice in her veins. She walked toward the door and through the purple flames.   
Harry took a breath and picked up the smallest bottle. Unassuming, he thought. He turned to face the black flames. 

“Here I come,” he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp. As he walked through the flames it felt like ice was flooding his body. For a moment he could see nothing, but dark fire…then he was on the other side,   
in the last chamber. 

There was already someone there, but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo, call me, I have an idea.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, any mistakes are mine. Chamber of Secrets rewrite will be up soon, first few chapters today, then on a weekly basis until I can finish with P.O.A.

It was Quirrell.

“but….Snape.”

“Severus?” Quirrel laughed, and it wasn’t his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and deep. “Yes, Severus does seem the type doesn’t he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?”

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. 

“But Snape tried to kill me!”

“No, No ,NO!! It was I who tried to kill you. If it wasn’t for that stunt you pulled you would have been splattered to the ground like Mr. Flint.”

“You did that to Marcus.”

Quirrell smirked. 

“I had to get you in the air Harry. If anything Snape was trying to save you with his pathetic little counter curse.”

Snape had tried to save him. 

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air, and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. 

“You let in the troll in?”

“Well, I do have a special gift with trolls. Severus halted me even then though that three-headed dog did manage to mangle him a bit.”

Halloween, it all made sense. Snape wasn’t going to steal the stone. He had suspected Quirrell all along. 

“Now, if you’ll wait a minute Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.”

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised. 

“The mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this.”

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror. 

“I saw you and Snape in the forest.”

“Yes,” Quirrell laughed. “He was trying to frighten me. Like he could with Lord Voldemort on my side.”

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. 

“I see the Stone…I’m presenting it to my master…but where is it?”

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn’t give. 

“But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.”

“Oh, he does,” said Quirrell casually. “heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead.”

“But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing, I thought Snape was threatening you.” 

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell’s face. 

“Sometimes, I find it hard to follow my master’s instructions….he is a great wizard and I am weak….”

“He was there with you?” 

“He is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I traveled the world. He showed me how wrong I have been thinking that there is good and evil, that there is this great chasm between them, but there isn’t.   
Good and evil don’t exist, there is only power. Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me. When I failed to steal the Stone from Grignotts, he was most displeased. He punished me…. Decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me.” 

“I don’t understand…is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?”

Harry’s mind was racing. 

What he wanted more than anything in the world was to find the Stone before Quirrell did. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it---which means I’ll see where it’s hidden. But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I’m up to?

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without him knowing, but the ropes were just too tight. He tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. 

“Help me, master,” Quirrell called desperately. 

And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. 

“Use the boy…use the boy….”

Quirrell rounded on Harry. 

“Yes, Potter, come here.”

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got to his feet, and walked toward Quirrell, sensing his chance. 

Quirrell moved behind him. Harry breathed in the funny noise coming from Quirrell’s turban. He closed his eyes and stepped in front of the mirror. 

His reflection winked at him, and he felt something drop into his pocket. 

“Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?”

Harry screwed up all his courage. 

“I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I’ve won the house cup.”

Quirrell cursed again, moving Harry to the side so he could see in to the mirror again. 

Harry hadn’t made it five paces before the other voice spoke again. 

“He lies….he lies….”

“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Do not tell lies! What did you see?”

The voice spoke again. 

“Let me speak to him….face-to-face….”

“Master, you are not strong enough.”

“I have strength enough….for this…”

Quirrell unwrapped his turban. Harry would have screamed, but he couldn’t make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk   
white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. 

“Harry Potter….” It whispered. 

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn’t move. 

“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapor…I have form only when I can share another’s body….but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds.....”

Unicorn blood sustained him, Quirrell carried him, and once he had the Stone Harry knew he would be back. 

“Now, why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

So he knew. Harry stumbled backward. 

“Don’t be a fool,” snarled the face. “Better save your own life and join me… or you’ll meet the same end as your parents…They died begging for mercy….”

“LIAR!” Harry shouted suddenly. 

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. 

“I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight…but your mother needn’t have died….she was trying to protect you…Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain…..”

“NEVER!”

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but when Quirrell followed him with cries from Voldemort to “SIEZE HIM” Harry turned back. Quirrell pinned him to the ground with his knees. Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse,   
but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face----

“AAAARGH”

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn’t touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain….his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a fatal curse. 

He burned him as Quirrell tried to wrench his arm from his grasp as Voldemort shrieked “KILL HIM! KILL HIM” and somewhere other voices, “Harry! Harry!”, but all Harry saw was darkness. 

 

&&&

“How long have I been here?” asked Harry. 

“Three days,” answered Dumbledore. Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what   
looked like half the candy shop. 

“From your friends and admirers,” said Dumbledore. “What happened between you and Quirrell is a complete secret so of course the whole school knows. I believe Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic and confiscated it.”

“Where are….”

“Both Miss Bulstrode and Miss Granger will be relieved that you have come round, so shall Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, even Mr. Zabini showed a bit of interest in your well-being. Mr. Goyle even stopped by.”

Really, thought Harry. He’d have to talk to Goyle later. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, like he had read his mind. “I believe he brought that particular basket.” Dumbledore pointed to a silver and green basket that help loads and loads of Sugar Quills, which he knew were Goyle’s favorites.

“The Stone?” said Harry.

And Dumbledore told him. That Harry had managed to hold onto the Stone long enough. That Dumbledore had found him just in time. And he told him what would now happen to Nicolas Flamel. 

“But that means he and his wife will die, won’t they?”

“They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry’s expression. 

“Don’t fear death Harry. For to those who have a well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. As much money and life as you could want! As much power, but the trouble with being able to choose whatever you   
want it is that sometimes you choose wrong, and humans do have a knack for choosing precisely those thing that are wrong for them.”

“And He….and Voldemort.”

Dumbledore gave him a kind smile. 

“He will be back. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share…not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; which shows just how little mercy he has for his followers or   
his enemies.”

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly because it made his head hurt. Then he said, “Sir, there are some other things I’d like to know, if you can tell me…things I want to know the truth about…..”

“The truth,” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not too in which case I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to keep him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place.” 

“Do you know why Quirrell couldn’t touch you? Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own   
mark. Not a scar, no visible sign…to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. 

“And the Cloak? You sent it to me?”

“Ah, your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it.” Dumbledore’s eye twinkled. “Useful thing…your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here.”

“And Snape? Quirrell said Snape…”

“Professor Snape, Harry.” 

“Yes, him---Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?”

“Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive. He saved his life.”

“What?”

“Yes…” said Dumbledore dreamily. “Funny, the way people’s minds work, isn’t it? Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt…I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make   
him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace….” 

“You found the Stone because you didn’t want it, only someone who didn’t crave such things, money, power, to live forever could have fetched the Stone….Quirrell should’ve known he couldn’t beat a child in that arena.   
Children don’t want things like that, they want things like these….”

He picked up a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, and popped one in his mouth. He smiled, then choked and said, “Alas! Ear wax!”

&&&

Millicent, Hermione, Ron, the twins, Neville, Blaise, and begrudging looking Goyle trotted into the room even as Madam Pomfrey touted, “Only five minutes.”

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad that she didn’t for he was still very sore. 

“Harry, we were sure you were going to….Dumbledore was so worried….”

“The whole school’s talking about it,” said Ron. “What really happened?”

Harry told them. 

“So, the Stone’s gone?” said Millicent finally. 

“We could have made a fortune, Potter,” said Blaise. “Where’s your enterprising spirit?” 

“It was gone when I woke up, Blaise, Dumbledore returned it to the person it belongs too.”

“Flamel,” Hermione filled in. 

“What happened to you two?” Harry asked Millicent and Hermione. 

“Well, Mil….” Hermione started to say when Millicent cut her off. 

“We got out okay,” said Millicent. 

Hermione gave her a look but continued. 

“We were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall. He looked at us, and just knew. He said, “Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?” and hurtled off to the third floor.”

“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Blaise and Harry knew he meant the cloak. 

“Of course, he did,” said Millicent. “Draco’s right, the old man’s off his rocker. Has been, if you want to believe my parents.”

“No,” said Harry, eager to defend the old headmaster for some reason. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you   
know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea what the plan was, and instead of stopping us, he just gave us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how that mirror worked. He thought I had the right to face him if I could.”

Ignoring the looks his friends were giving each other, Harry asked about the House Cup. 

“Slytherin won,” said a gloating Blaise. 

Ron rolled his eyes. “How is it our fault that Ravenclaw has a mutant team and practically steam rolled us that last match? That should be investigated.”

Harry rolled his eyes. 

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over. 

“You’ve had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT,” she said firmly. 

 

The day of the feast, Hagrid came to visit him. He looked scared to even touch Harry. Apparently, their little adventure had shaken Hagrid. 

“I brought yeh a present,” he said. 

“It’s not a stout sandwich, is it?” said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. 

“Nah, Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ‘Course he shoulda sacked me instead….anyway, got yeh this….”

It seemed to be a handsome, leather covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. 

“Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ her photos…knew yeh didn’ have any…d’yeh like it?”

Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid understood. 

 

Harry made his way down to the end of year feast alone that night. Slytherin were going to win for what would be the seventh year in a row. Huge banners were hung in silver and green from the ceiling of the Great Hall to celebrate their win. Not that Harry did much. 

A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. Harry stopped, he wasn’t sure if he could do this. It seemed as if everyone else was already in the Great Hall, and he would be one of the last to enter. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to the hospital wing, surely someone would bring him some food. Even they didn’t, it wouldn’t be the first time he went to bed without dinner. 

Just as he turned around, he barely missed running into someone. 

“And just where do you think you’re going, Potter? I do believe the feast is that way.” 

It was Snape. 

“I was just….I thought I could go for a walk…”

“To the Great Hall to all of your admirers, no doubt?”

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. He could go face to face with Voldemort, but he couldn’t face his surly Head of House. 

“What you did was irresponsible. You could have killed Ms. Bulstrode with your hero antics. As it stands, Gryffindor has 312 points, Hufflepuff 352, Ravenclaw 426 and my house has 472, but for your behavior and   
complete lack of respect for how things are done here, and loathe as I am to admit that I cannot ban you from coming back next year, I will be taking fifty points from Slytherin house.”

And just like that the banners in the Great Hall changed from Green to Blue. “After you, Mr. Potter,” said Snape and defiantly Harry walked in the hall. 

Every eye turned to him even as Dumbledore began his speech. 

Harry was deaf to it though as he thought about how much Snape hated him. It wasn’t enough what Harry had gone through to save the Stone, but to make sure that everyone else hadn’t hoisted Harry onto a platform Snape was willing to lose the House Cup when they already had it in the bag. He had to make sure that Harry knew what his place was, and now, everyone else would blame him for the loss. 

He sat down with Millicent and Blaise, keeping his eyes on the table even as he could feel the questioning gazes of the others around him. 

“It seems we have had a change in decoration,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

Great. Harry could survive having Snape dock points, but not Dumbledore and certainly not in front of the whole school. 

“First, to Ms. Hermione Granger for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.”

That took Gryffindor out of last place, and it seemed that Hermione’s house mates were exceedingly grateful. 

“Then, to Ms. Millicent Bulstrode for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Slytherin House fifty points.”

Then that covered what Harry had just lost. He looked at Snape, but he didn’t look angry, he looked like he expected this. 

Then why? 

“Thirdly, to Mr. Harry Potter…,” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet… “For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Slytherin sixty points.”

It was a landslide. And the room erupted. Dumbledore raised his hand and the room gradually fell silent. 

“There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Gregory Goyle.” 

The Slytherins all around them erupted in a way that Harry had never seen before. Each and every Slytherin even Malfoy seemed to be beside themselves with the news. Harry was even sure he spotted Tracey Davis giving   
Goyle a kiss on the cheek. 

“Which means,” said Dumbledore. “That we need to change this back.” He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became silver and green once again and the serpent was back in its place behind the Head   
Table. 

Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall’s hand with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, but McGonagall was keeping an eye on Hermione Granger who looked pleased as her housemates congratulated her on getting them out of last place. It seemed as if she was going to have more friends after all. Millicent smiled at him and Blaise clapped him on the back. Goyle sent him a thumbs up and even Draco sent him a smile, though he quickly covered it up. 

It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls…he would never, ever forget tonight. 

 

Exam results were in. Millicent was at the top of their class, Hermione had beat them all. Even Goyle managed to pick up his grades, with Millicent promising that she would help tutor him some this summer. 

Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott’s Every   
Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats. Harry would miss the silver and green scarf he had so often worn this year. He would have no need of it this summer. Finally, they pulled into the platform nine and three-quarters at King’s Cross station. 

“Home,” said Ron, but Harry couldn’t share the same sentiment.

“You must come and stay this summer,” said Ron. Fred and George echoed their assent. 

“Thanks,” said Harry. “I’ll need something to look forward to.”

People joined them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called: 

“Bye, Harry!”

“See you, Potter!”

“Have a nice summer, Harry.”

“Still famous,” said Millicent, grinning at him. 

“Not where I’m going, I promise you,” said Harry. 

He, Ron, and Millicent passed through the gateway together. 

“There he is,” Mrs. Weasley said to her daughter. “Hello kids, busy year?”

“Very,” said Harry. “Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oh, it was nothing, dear.”

“Ready, are you?”

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry even existing, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking   
terrified at the very sight of Harry. 

“You must be Harry’s family!” said Mrs. Weasley.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Uncle Vernon. “Hurry up, boy, we haven’t got all day.” He walked away. 

Harry hung back for a last word with his friends. 

“See you over the summer, then.”

“Hope you have…er….a. good holiday,” said Hermione, who had caught up with them, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant. Millicent had her hand in her wand pocket. 

Harry stilled her with a look. After barely escaping Quirrell and expulsion more times than he could count, it wouldn’t do for Millicent to get caught hexing someone now, even if Uncle Vernon deserved it. 

“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that spread over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer….”

Millicent smiled, proud of the Slytherin Harry had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jo Rowling, call me, I have an idea.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at thinkmyhappythoughts, on Twitter at Mitchel_chelsea, and on Thoughtcatalog as Chelsea Temple...


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